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PLU  P  Y 

THE  REAL  BOY 


PLUPY 

"THE    REAL    BOY" 
HENRY  A.  SHUTE 

Author  of  "The  Real  Diary  of  a  Real  Boy," 
"•Farming  ft,"  etc.,  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

WARREN  ROCKWELL 


BOSTON 

RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

THE  GORHAM  PRESS 
I9II 


Copyright  1910   by  Richard  O    Badge* 
All  Rights  Reserved 


THE  GORHAM  PRESS,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 
CHAPTER  ONE 

"Life  is  one  darn  thing  after  another" 13 

CHAPTER  TWO 

"And  I'll  tell  in  simple  language  what  I  know 

about  the  row 
That  broke  up  our  Society  upon  the  Stanislow" .  .      28 

CHAPTER  THREE 
"There  was  an  old  woman 
Who  lived  in  a  shoe, 
She  had  so  many  children 

She  didn't  know  what  to  do" 49 

CHAPTER  FOUR 
"The  amount  of  devilment  those  three  boys  can 

crowd  into  a  half  holiday  beats  all" 64 

CHAPTER  FIVE 
Mike  introduces  a  novel  but  effective  method  of 

discipline 80 

CHAPTER  SIX 

Plupy  tries  to  blend  a  dog  fight  and  a  very  ex 
clusive  function  into  one  harmonious  wholt .    IOI 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  SEVEN 

Plupy  enters  politics  with  the  praiseworthy  inten 
tion  of  aiding  his  father  to  obtain  a  raise  in 
salary  no 

CHAPTER  EIGHT 

How  Plupy,  Beany,  Pewt,  Fatty,  Tomtit,  Whack, 
Bug,  Puzzy,  Skinny,  Billy,  Parsons,  Scotty 
and  others  became  nigger  minstrels 136 

CHAPTER  NINE 

The  Fall  of  Babylon  due  to  Fatty's  performance 

and  the  presence  of  uninvited  guests 155 

CHAPTER  TEN 

The  strong  arm  of  the  law  reaches  for  Plupy's 

collar  and  gets  a  strangle  hold 173 

CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

The  Squire  points  a  moral 193 

CHAPTER  TWELVE 

Plupy  enters  upon  a  short  but  meteoric  mercan 
tile  career  and  with  the  aid  of  his  friends  in 
troduces  pleasing  variety  into  the  manage 
ment  of  a  country  store 217 

CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

The  elder  Shute  rescues  a  chicken  and  rebuilds  a 

barn 241 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

With  the  humane  intention  of  promoting  the  com 
mon  welfare  and  smoothing  the  asperities  of 
war  the  boys  get  up  a  "Debatin  Club" 253 

CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

A  regular  Donnybrook  fair  of  a  debate 271 

CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 
"Please,  ma'am,  kin  I  have  suthin    for  Thanks- 

givin'r 294 

CHAPTERS  SEVENTEEN 
With   the  view  of  possible  Christmas  contingen 
cies  the  boys  become  deeply  and  widely  re 
ligious   3J8 

CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 
({Fire!  Fire!  a  house  is  on  fire, 
See  the  Firemen  run. 
It  is  a  crime  to  set  a 
House  on  Fire." 33$ 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

Deep  in  Plupy's  heart  dwelt  a  mighty  indigna 
tion    Frontis 

Cornelia  tossed  the  knife  to  her  grinning  brother.  .  19 

At  last  Plupy  began  to  get  the  range 25 

They  stopped  not  to  argue  the  matter  or  inquire 

his  intentions    29 

"Naouf  whaddier  think  ont" 33 

The  crowd  woke  up  at  these  warlike  demonstra 
tions    39 

Plupy's  mother  took  forcible  possession 43 

He  had  tied  the  wrong  rope 47 

When  the  elder  Shute  and  the  reluctant  Plupy 

retired  to  the  woodshed 53 

Scarcely  a  day  passed  but  what  a  temporary  hos 
pital  was  set  up 61 

Jim  would  go  over  backwards 69 

Beany  took  with  htm  tin  pans,  pails,  mops  and 

dustpans    73 

Half  a  bushel  of  sausages , 77 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

Beany  turned  the  hose  on  Plupy 83 

The  boys  fed  the  Gate  mare 91 

In  they  went,  all  over 99 

Keene  and  Cele  rushed  to  repel  boarders 107 

Beany  had  been  kicked  by  a  stable  horse 113 

Nellie  went  out  of  the  shafts  like  a  shot 1 19 

Plupy  read  Midshipman  Easy 123 

The  politician  fumed  and  said  impolite  things.  . .  .  129 
"For  two  cents"  roared  the  elder  Shute,  "I  would 

smash  that  old  plug  of  yours" 133 

Plupy  bending  under  the  weight  of  a  pail  of  water  137 

"I'm  the  feller  to  fight  Bug"  said  Fuzzy 143 

Fatty  leads  off,  after  him  comes  the  band,  Plupy, 

Parson,  Bug  and  Pewt,  Scotty  Brigham.  ...  152 

Billy  Swett,  Tomtit,  Tady  Fenton  and  Jim  Early  153 

Fatty  disappeared  to  his  armpits 159 

Skinny  Bruce  springs  for  the  trapeze,  and  misses  it  163 

Even  Speckle  Face  pauses  in  doubt 171 

Hannah  thrashed  them  soundly 181 

Plupy  headed  them  off  with  his  fish  pole 187 

That  terrifying  presence  enthroned  behind  the  desk  191 
Josh  had  been  brought  here  by  a  fine  looking  gen 
tleman  197 

//  took  three  policemen  to  handcuff  the  schooner's 

cook 205 

Plupy  was  borne  quickly  to  earth 22  if 

Plupy  and  the  head  clerk 227 

To  their  great  delight  they  found  several  very 

curious  pop  guns 233 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 
Mr.  Connor  entered  the  store  with  the  spring  of  a 

panther  237 

Beany  had  substituted  a  glass  of  strong  vinegar  for 

the  sweetened  water 259 

"Old  Francis  licked  time  out  of  me" 267 

Fatty  roared  at  Whack,  purple  with  indignation.  .  281 

"Help  yourself,  fellers"  said  Plupy 291 

"Fatty  Melcher  and  Pewt  et  it  all" 301 

"Sakes  alive,  Harry  Shute,  if  it  aint  you"  said  old 

Mother  Moulton 307 

Great  was  the  annoyance  of  the  pastor  of  the 

second  church 315 

"Hullo,  Brad,  Hullo  Wat"  said  Plupys  father.  .  321 

The  same  boys,  tuning  their  lusty  pipes 329 

Plupy  tore  into  his  clothes 341 

Round  the  corner  came  a  long  line  of  men 347 

Bucket  lines  had  been  formed 351 

Plupy 's  father  was  conferring  with  the  insurance 

men  357 

Tail  piece 362 


PLUPY 

THE    REAL    BOY" 
CHAPTER  I 


"Life  is  one  darn  thing  after  another." 

PLUPY  was  grumpy.     There  was  no 
doubt  of  it.    Anyone  who  saw  him  as 
he  sat  on  the  fence  in  front  of  his 
house,  dangling  his  long  legs  in  the 
air,  or  idly  drumming  his  heels  on 
the  boards,  scowling  fiercely  at  the  world,  would 
have  known  that  deep  in  his  heart  dwelt   a 
mighty  indignation. 

The  day  had  begun  inauspiciously  for  him. 
He  had  forgotten  to  split  his  kindlings  the  night 
before  and  had  incurred  condign  punishment 
that  seemed  to  him  unjust  and  wholly  out  of 
proportion  to  the  offence. 

If  his  father  had  whipped  him  he  would  have 
gotten  over  it  long  before  this.  But  he  had 
ordered  him  to  stay  in  the  yard  all  day.  And 
he  had  promised  to  go  fishing  with  Pewt  and 

13 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Potter,  and  Pewt  knew  where  there  were  some 
bully  perch,  old  lunkers.  He  almost  wished  his 
father  was  dead.  Anyway  his  father  would  be 
sorry  when  he  was  dead.  That  was  just  the 
way,  nothing  ever  went  right.  What  did  he 
have  to  split  up  kindlings  for  anyway?  Why 
didn't  they  come  all  split. 

If  people  only  knew  enough  to  cut  down  little 
trees  instead  of  big  ones,  they  would  be  little 
enough  for  kindlings  anyway,  and  it  was  easier 
to  cut  up  little  ones  than  big  ones.  When  he 
was  a  man  he  would  never  make  his  boy  split 
kindlings,  but  would  buy  them  all  split. 

He  bet  his  father  would  feel  bad  if  he 
drowned  himself.  He  guessed  he  would  miss 
him  when  he  was  gone.  And  his  mother  too, 
she  might  have  said  something  when  his  father 
told  him  to  stay  in. 

He  pictured  himself  lying  dead  in  the  river 
with  the  boats  full  of  people  with  boat-hooks 
and  eel  spears,  and  the  banks  lined  with  other 
pale-faced  scared  people,  and  he  pictured  him 
self  brought  home  limp  and  dripping,  and 

H 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

brought  into  the  house  amid  the  cries  and 
groans  of  his  family  and  the  loud  self-re 
proaches  of  his  father,  the  father  that  had 
driven  him  to  this  dreadful  death. 

And  he  drew  so  affecting  a  picture  of  their 
unavailing  grief  that  the  tears  filled  his  eyes  and 
a  lump  arose  in  his  throat  as  big  as  the  yarn- 
covered,  rubber-cored  ball  in  his  pocket. 

As  his  swimming  eyes  roamed  wistfully 
around  in  search  of  something  to  lighten  the 
dreary  monotony  of  staying  in  the  yard  all  day, 
they  fell  on  the  huge  old  apple  tree  whose  deep- 
green  leaves  stirred  slightly  in  the  light  breeze, 
and  were  dappled  all  over  by  flecks  of  golden 
sunshine. 

Suddenly  a  thought  struck  him,  the  green  ap 
ples  were  just  large  enough  to  throw  with  an 
elastic  switch.  "Bully,"  he  would  be  the  first 
to  do  it  this  season.  He  sprang  from  the  fence 
and  started  for  the  tree.  Then  a  most  unusual 
spasm  of  obedience  struck  him.  "Mother,"  he 
called,  "Mother-er-er,"  he  shrieked,  as  she  did 
not  immediately  answer. 

15 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

"What  is  it?"  a  voice  replied  from  the  house. 

"Kin  I  plug  some  green  apples  with  a  stick?" 

"Why,  y-e-e-s,  I  think  so,"  his  mother  replied, 
somewhat  doubtfully,  "only,"  she  continued, 
"don't  throw  them  at  people  and  don't  break 
any  windows." 

"All  right,  mother,"  he  replied,  swarming  up 
the  tree  for  a  limber  switch.  The  tree,  a  high 
old  Baldwin,  was  too  large  for  his  arms  and 
legs  to  go  around,  although  they  were  of  abnor 
mal  length  and  thinness  for  a  boy  of  his  age,  but 
as  it  bent  slightly  to  the  east  and  as  there  was  a 
cavity  about  eight  feet  from  the  ground,  it  was 
climbed  in  this  ingenious  manner. 

Plupy  stepped  upon  the  wooden  railing 
around  the  current  bushes  which  was  nailed  to 
the  tree,  from  there  sprang  straddlewise  up  the 
trunk  until  his  fingers  reached  the  cavity,  where 
he  squirmed  and  inched  and  twisted  himself 
along  until  he  reached  the  bend  in  the  tree 
whence  he  could  pull  himself  up  by  the  branches. 

When  he  had  selected  a  suitable  withe  he 
found  he  had  left  his  knife  in  the  house,  where- 

16 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

upon  he  began  to  yell  for  someone  to  bring  it 
out.  "Keene,  Cele,  Georgie,"  he  shouted,  until 
one  of  the  young  ladies  mentioned,  a  black- 
eyed,  saucy-looking,  round-faced  girl,  appeared 
in  a  blue  checked  apron  with  a  dish-cloth  and  a 
plate  in  her  hands. 

"Whatcher  howlin'  like  that  for,  Harry?" 
she  asked  in  a  tone  of  indignant  remonstrance, 
" Whatcher  want  ?" 

Wantcher  to  gwup  in  my  room  n'  git  my 
jack  knife.  S'in  my  linen  britches." 

"Guess  if  you  want  it,  you  can  go  'n  get  it 
yerself.  I'm  washin'  dishes." 

"Oh,  gollong  n'  git  it,  wontcher?  don't  be  so 
mean,"  urged  Plupy. 

"Go  yerself,  I  won't"  said  Keene  decidedly, 
turning  her  back  on  the  suppliant,  "I  won't." 

"Mother-er!"  shouted  Plupy,  "can't  Keene 
just  gwup  and  get  my  knife  for  me  ?" 

"Why,"  said  the  much-wanted  woman,  "I 
should  think  she  might" 

"Ma,  he  can  go  jesswell  as  I,  he  hasn't  any 
thing  to  do  and  I'm  jest  as  busy  as  I  can  be," 

'7 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

said  Keene,  attacking  a  platter  with  a  great 
splash  of  water. 

"Make  her,  mother,  she  jest  does  it  to  be 
mean.  I  don't  believe  I  can  get  up  here  again  in 
a  week,"  said  Plupy. 

"Come,  Keene,"  said  her  mother  good  na- 
turedly,  "run  up  and  get  his  knife."  Where 
upon  that  young  lady  with  a  frown  and  a  defiant 
swing  of  her  square  shoulders,  walked  upstairs 
with  some  rather  unnecessary  noise,  but  soon 
returned  saying  she  couldn't  find  his  old  knife. 

"T'was  right  in  the  pocket  of  my  linen 
britches,"  said  Plupy,  "betcher  didn't  look." 

"Did  too,"  asserted  the  young  lady. 

"Cornelia,"  said  her  mother  with  a  warning 
light  in  her  eyes,  "go  straight  upstairs  and  bring 
down  Harry's  knife." 

There  was  but  one  reply  to  this  argument, 
and  in  a  trice  "Cornelia"  mounted  the  stairs  and 
returned  with  the  knife,  which  she  tossed  indig 
nantly  to  her  grinning  brother,  who  caught  it 
deftly,  and  jeeringly  said,  "Ya-ah-ya-ah,  had  to, 
didn't  yer?" 

18 


Cornelia  tossed  the  knife  to 
her  grinning  brother 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

"Smarty,  you  wait  and  see,"  replied  black- 
eyes,  tossing  her  head  and  returning  to  her 
dishes. 

Left  alone,  Plupy  cut  a  stout  but  limber 
switch  and  carefully  trimmed  off  the  twigs  and 
leaves,  whistling  shrilly  a  popular  band  tune. 
Then  he  whittled  the  end  to  a  sharp  point  on 
which  to  impale  his  projectiles.  If  he  could  only 
harden  the  end  in  fire  it  wouldn't  split  and 
would  last  longer. 

There  was  Sam  Dyer's  blacksmith  shop  just 
across  the  garden,  but  then  he  couldn't  go  out  of 
the  yard.  Perhaps,  however,  Sam  would  hard 
en  it  for  him.  So  he  dropped  his  switch  to  the 
ground  where  he  speedily  followed  it,  letting 
himself  down  from  a  bending  branch. 

Arrived  at  the  boundary  fence  he  climbed  to 
the  top  rail  and  accosted  the  blacksmith  who 
was  sousing  a  hot  iron  in  the  water  trough. 

uMr.  Dyer,"  he  said  with  more  deference 
than  he  generally  used  in  accosting  that  gentle 
man,  "wilyer  please  hold  the  end  of  this  stick 
in  your  fire  a  minute,  jest  to  harden  it." 

21 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Mr.  Dyer  looked  up  with  a  momentary 
frown.  His  experience  with  Plupy  had  been 
somewhat  extensive  and  of  such  a  nature  as  to 
put  him  in  a  condition  of  being  constantly  on 
guard.  But  he  was  an  extremely  good  natured 
and  simple  hearted  man  and  his  frown  was 
speedily  chased  away  by  a  cheerful  grin. 

"Why,  in  course,  in  course,  sonny,  come  right 
over,"  he  said  hospitably. 

"No,  you  do  it,  I  can't  come  over,  gotter  stay 
in  the  yard  all  day,"  said  Plupy,  shame-facedly. 

"Watcher  bin  doin  naou?"  queried  Sam. 

"Didn't  split  no  kindlins  las  night." 

"H'm,  that  all?"  said  the  blacksmith  leaning 
on  his  smutty  arms  on  the  fence,  "didn't  know 
but  yer'd  bin  breakin'  winders  or  ringin'  door 
bells  er  suthin'  like  that." 

"No,  honest  now,  twant  nothin'  but  jest 
that,"  affirmed  Plupy,  "hope  to  die  and  cross 
my  throat,"  he  added,  drawing  his  fingers  cross 
wise  over  his  skinny  neck,  which  with  the  boys 
was  then  and  may  possibly  be  now  the  most  sol 
emn  oath  possible. 

22 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

"Well,"  said  Sam,  "gimme  yer  stick  an'  I'll 
singe  it  for  ye,"  and  he  obligingly  did  so,  return 
ing  it  with  the  point  in  quite  a  delightfully  ada 
mantine  condition. 

Plupy,  in  great  elation,  thanked  him  and  ran 
back  to  the  apple  tree  where  he  filled  his  pockets 
with  hard  green  apples  of  about  the  size  of 
bantam's  eggs.  Then  choosing  one  he  tentative 
ly  bit  it,  made  a  wry  face  and  spat.  It  was  sour 
and  bitter.  Then,  impaling  it  on  the  point  of 
his  withe,  he  lightly  swung  the  switch  into  the 
air  to  try  its  temper,  then  gave  it  a  throwing 
motion  with  all  the  strength  of  his  arm. 

"Whoof,"  sang  the  withe  as  it  cut  through 
the  air.  Away  went  the  apple  with  an  audible 
hum,  leaving  the  point  at  just  the  right  moment. 
Away,  away  it  soared,  ascending  for  an  incredi 
ble  distance,  where  it  passed  out  of  sight  among 
the  trees. 

Another  was  tried  with  equal  success.  The 
third  left  the  point  too  soon  and  ascended  per 
pendicularly  until  it  was  lost  to  sight,  then  fell 
in  the  next  yard.  Plupy  forgot  all  his  troubles, 

23 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

he  was  happy.  But  whenever  a  boy  has  any 
thing  to  throw  projectiles  with,  be  it  a  bean 
blower,  pop-gun,  bow  n'arrer,  arrow-rifle  or 
slingshot,  some  sort  of  a  target  is  necessary  for 
perfect  enjoyment. 

And  so  after  trying  long  distance  shots  for  a 
while,  Plupy  began  to  look  about  for  something 
to  hit.  He  soon  found  it.  Across  two  gardens, 
nearly  one  hundred  yards  away,  sat  two  men  on 
a  fence.  They  had  been  hired  to  work  in  a 
neighbor's  garden,  and  in  the  absence  of  that 
neighbor,  were  improving  their  time  by  politi 
cal  discussion.  The  fact  that  they  were  doing 
wrong  in  neglecting  their  employer's  work  was 
no  reason  why  Plupy  should  seek  to  even  up 
matters  by  using  them  as  a  target. 

But  so  he  did,  and  with  poor  success  for  a 
while.  The  shots  went  like  lightning,  but  wide 
of  the  mark.  At  last  Plupy  began  to  get  the 
range  and  finally,  to  his  intense  delight,  a  hard 
round  apple  took  one  of  the  disputants  a  pro 
digious  thump  on  the  back  of  his  head. 

In  an  instant  he  sprang  from  the  fence  with 

24 


At  last  Plupy  began 
to  get  the  range 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

a  whoop,  and  came  charging  toward  the  place 
from  which  the  missile  had  come,  pouring  out 
blasphemies  and  threats.  Plupy  dodged  behind 
the  fence  and  dived  into  the  barn  to  a  hiding 
place  near  a  small  window,  through  which  he 
could  see  old  Seth  Tanner's  performance,  which 
was  that  frantic  gentleman's  name.  Across  the 
street  came  Skinny  Bruce  and  Tady  Finton, 
whistling  and  wholly  unconscious  of  approach 
ing  doom. 


27 


CHAPTER  II 


"And  I'll  tell  in  simple  language  what  I  know  about  the 

row 
That  broke  up  our  society  upon  the  Stanislow." 

Harte. 


SEEING  the  enraged  Tanner  charging 
them  with  horrid  curses,  they  stopped, 
not  to  argue  the  matter  or  to  inquire 
his  intentions.     His  warlike  demon 
strations  were  enough.    They  fled,  he 
followed.     They  crawled  under  the  fence,  he 
jumped  over.     They  dived  under  a  big  beach 
wagon  standing  in  front  of  the  blacksmith's 
shop,  he  was  compelled  to  go  around,  and  fell 
over  the  pole,  which,  while  it  added  fresh  fuel 
to  his  wrath  and  great  fluency  to  his  vocal  at 
tainments,   gave  them  a   few  rods  start,   and 
though  he  rose  and  followed  cursing,  he  never 
had  a  ghost  of  a  show  of  overtaking  them. 

As  he  passed  from  sight  and  his  frantic  invec 
tives  died  away  in  the  distance,   Plupy  came 

28 


ll 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

forth  from  his  hiding  place,  where  he  had  been 
rolling  in  convulsions  of  sinful  mirth,  hunted 
up  his  withe,  got  a  fresh  supply  of  green  apples 
and  watched  for  new  game. 

An  occasional  shot  at  a  dog  or  cat  kept  time 
from  dragging  too  heavily,  but  were  barren  of 
result.  At  last,  however,  a  glorious  opportunity 
came.  Old  Si  Smith's  big  white  dog  came  trot 
ting  along  the  road.  Now  old  Shep  was  a  rath 
er  savage  old  brute  and  the  boys  gave  him  a 
wide  berth.  But  this  opportunity  was  too  good 
to  be  lost,  and  Plupy,  hastily  impaling  the  hard 
est  and  best  apple  he  had,  took  aim  and  let  drive 
with  all  his  strength,  intending  to  give  the  un 
conscious  animal  a  most  tremendous  thump. 

Alas,  the  furious  energy  of  the  stroke  dis 
lodged  the  apple  a  thought  too  soon,  and  in 
stead  of  striking  the  dog,  it  flew  a  bit  high  and 
went  through  the  window  of  the  blacksmith 
shop  like  a  bullet  from  a  gun,  causing  in  the 
breast  of  the  honest  and  well-meaning  black 
smith  sentiments  of  keen  astonishment,  pro 
found  sorrow  and  righteous  indignation, 

31 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

In  a  trice  he  had  doffed  his  leather  apron 
rolled  down  his  sleeves  and  sallied  from  his 
shop  to  lodge  a  complaint  at  the  door  of  Plupy's 
house,  to  which  citadel  that  prudent  youth 
promptly  retired  at  the  first  jingle  of  flying 
glass. 

"Naou,  Mrs.  Shute,"  said  this  much-tried  in 
dividual,  "I  don't  think  it  jest  right.  This  tarnal 
son  of  yours  got  me  this  mawnin'  to  fix  him  a 
stick  for  firin'  apples  'n  what  duz  he  dew  but 
go  a  firin'  rocks  right  threw  my  winder.  Naou 
I've  got  to  jes  go  'n  hire  sum'un  to  mend  that 
winder,  'n  pay  'em  fifteen  cents  jes  likes  not. 
Naou  whaddier  think  on  't?" 

"Well,  Mr.  Dyer,"  said  that  much-tried  ma 
tron  kindly,  "I  am  quite  sure  Harry  did  not  in 
tend  to  break  your  window,  and  especially  after 
your  kindness  to  him.  I  think  if  he  was  intend 
ing  to  break  a  window  he  would  not  do  it  quite 
so  near  home,"  she  added.  "Harry,"  she  called, 
"come  down  here." 

Plupy  reappeared,  having  been  leaning  over 
the  banisters  listening  with  all  his  ears,  and  now 

32 


'Naou,  whaddier  think  on't?" 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

began  to  justify  his  mother's  confidence  by  vo 
ciferous  explanation. 

"Honest  now,  mother,  I  didn't  mean  to  plug 
his  window.  I  was  jest  letting  ding  at  old  Si 
Smith's  dog,  'n  it  slipped,  'n  went  through  Sam's 
window." 

"Mr.  Dyer,"  she  corrected  quietly. 

"Yes  'um,  Mister  Dyer,"  hastily  assented 
Plupy. 

"Wa-a-a-1,"  said  the  mollified  blacksmith,  "I 
spusso.  I  seen  that  air  cussed  dog  'n  I  wuz 
agoin'  to  fire  a  rock  at  him  myself.  In  course 
ye'll  pay  fer  my  winder,  Mrs.  Shute,  slongs 
Harry  broke  it." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course,  Mr.  Dyer,  how  much 
will  it  be?" 

"Wa-a-a-1,"  he  drawled  making  a  mental  cal 
culation,  "seems  sough  a  feller  had  orter  git 
'bout  twenty-five  cents  for  getting  mos  scart  to 
death  'n  hevin'  a  winder  broke." 

"That  is  certainly  reasonable,  Mr.  Dyer," 
said  Plupy's  mother,  handing  him  a  ten  and  a 
fifteen  cent  script.  "It  will  of  course,  Harry, 

25 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

come  out  of  your  cornet  money,  and  will,  I 
hope,  teach  you  to  be  more  careful,"  she  contin 
ued,  whereat  Plupy  looked  very  much  dis 
gusted,  as  the  accumulation  of  a  fund  sufficient 
to  purchase  a  cornet  had  been  the  darling  ambi 
tion  of  his  young  life. 

All  interest  in  life  had  now  departed,  and  he 
listlessly  dragged  his  shambling  length  to  the 
front  fence  and  slowly  climbed  upon  the  top  rail 
where  he  sat  moodily  dangling  his  legs  and  mus 
ing  upon  the  dreadful  accumulation  of  disap 
pointments  and  outrages  to  which  he  was  pecu 
liarly  subject.  Life  was  hard  indeed.  Other 
fellows  have  luck,  he  didn't. 

As  he  sat  there  in  moody  silence,  Pewt  and 
Potter,  returning  from  their  fishing  trip,  jubi 
lantly  hailed  him  and  held  up  each  a  string  of 
kivers  and  small  perch  with  a  few  undersized 
pickerel. 

"Ya-ah,  Plupy,"  roared  Pewt  derisively, 
"thotcher  was  going  with  us." 

"Huh,  couldn't,  father  made  me  stay  in 
'cause  I  didn't  split  my  kinlins,"  said  Plupy  re- 
36 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

sentfully,  glowering  at  the  remembrance  of  his 
wrongs. 

"That's  too  bad,  Plupy,"  said  Potter  sym 
pathetically. 

"That's  so,  Plupy,  your  old  man's  meaner'n 
tripe.  I  heard  old  man  Collins  say  he  cheated 
him  and  he  had  orter  be  hung." 

Now  Plupy,  however  indignant  he  might  feel 
with  his  father  in  his  own  small  bosom,  did  not 
allow  his  good  name  to  be  traduced,  and  he 
promptly  called  Pewt  a  liar,  who  instantly  re 
torted  that  Plupy  was  another,  and  that  his 
father  was  a  bigger  one.  Plupy,  although  he 
might  have  passed  over  the  personal  application 
of  the  term,  could  not  forgive  it  as  applied  to 
his  father  and  flopped  from  his  perch  and  as 
sumed  a  ludicrous  posture  of  offense,  with  one 
arm  extended  and  one  crossed  over  his  chin,  the 
middle  joint  of  his  third  and  little  finger  pro 
jecting  beyond  the  others,  which  was  supposed 
to  give  a  cutting  edge  to  his  fists  that  nothing 
but  brass  knuckles  could  exceed. 

Pewt  promptly  dropped  his  pole  and  string 

37 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

of  fish  and  threw  himself  into  an  attitude  of  de 
fence,  doubling  his  fists  more  tightly  than  Plupy, 
but  projecting  the  middle  joint  of  a  second  fin 
ger,  a  proceeding  which  was  popularly  supposed 
to  be  very  conducive  to  black  eyes. 

At  these  warlike  demonstrations,  several  sta 
ble  loafers  and  hostlers,  who  had  been  dozing 
in  the  sun  in  front  of  the  stables,  woke  up  and 
urged  the  boys,  who  were  warily  circling  round 
each  other,  to  sail  in.  As  this  encouragement 
did  not  precipitate  matters,  someone  pushed 
Plupy  violently  into  Pewt,  who  received  him 
with  vigorous  punches.  The  fight  was  on. 
Plupy  swung  his  arms  like  the  spokes  of  a 
wheel.  Pewt  delivered  sidewinders,  rib-roast 
ers  and  semi-circular  digs.  They  clinched, 
writhed,  twisted  and  fell,  Pewt  uppermost. 

Plupy's  legs  wildly  waved  in  the  air  vainly 
seeking  purchase,  then  doubled  under  him.  His 
stomach  rose  like  a  bow,  there  was  a  violent 
twist  and  Pewt  was  turned.  But  he  squirmed 
out  and  they  half  rose,  punching,  pulling  hair 
and  twisting  like  eels,  down  they  rolled  off  the 

38 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

sidewalk,  Pewt  again  underneath,  but  they 
were  pulled  apart  by  more  scientific  bystanders 
and  told  to  stand  up  like  men. 

At  it  they  went,  each  one  apparently  trying  to 
put  in  as  many  blows  in  a  given  time  as  he  could, 
a  clinch,  a  twist,  and  a  fall.  Again  they  grovel 
in  the  dust.  Plupy  tries  to  pull  out  every  spear 
of  Pewt's  stringy  and  copious  thatch;  Pewt  tries 
to  obliterate  all  signs  of  humanity  from  Plupy's 
freckled  countenance. 

It  looked  as  if  both  would  be  successful  when 
suddenly  there  was  an  abrupt  change  of  senti 
ment  in  the  crowd,  and  old  Mike  Hartnett,  who 
had  been  the  most  active  in  egging  on  hostili 
ties,  tore  them  apart  with  stern  reproaches,  just 
as  Plupy's  mother  appeared,  called  from  the 
duty  of  putting  to  sleep  a  wakeful  baby  by 
Keene's  staccato  shrieks  of  "Harry's  a  fightin', 
Harry's  a  fightin',"  and  took  forcible  possession 
of  the  most  demoralized  youth  imaginable.  His 
jacket  was  covered  with  dust  and  dragged  over 
his  head,  one  leg  of  his  trousers  pulled  to  his 
knee,  his  hair  standing  every  way,  his  mouth 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

swollen  and  his  face  scratched. 

Pewt  was  also  in  the  most  astonishing  condi 
tion  possible,  and  looked  as  if  he  had  been 
shaken  up  in  a  corncracker. 

Plupy  was  hurried  to  the  house  by  his  horri 
fied  mother,  notwithstanding  his  protestations 
and  excuses,  and  sent  to  his  room  to  spend  the 
rest  of  the  day  in  solitary  confinement.  He  felt 
that  this  was  unjust,  but  he  recked  not  of  injus 
tice.  He  had  played  the  man,  and  the  deep 
and  unspoken  satisfaction  that  comes  of  a  duty 
well  done  swelled  up  in  his  breast  and  filled  him 
with  a  sweet  elation. 

But  he  soon  began  to  be  uneasy.  He  was  im 
prisoned.  The  outside  world  never  before 
seemed  so  beautiful,  so  alluring.  It  seemed  as 
though  he  must  get  out.  He  would.  He  lis 
tened.  Everything  was  quiet  about  the  house. 
Keene  and  Cele  had  gone  over  to  Lucy  Wat 
son's,  Georgie  was  in  Aunt  Clark's  side  of  the 
house,  Frankie  and  Annie  were  taking  their  af 
ternoon  naps,  and  the  soft  creak  of  his  mother's 
rocking-chair  as  she  sung  them  to  sleep  was  the 

42 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

only  sound  in  the  house. 

Outside  the  rhythmic  tink,  tink  of  the  black 
smith's  hammer  was  heard.  He  rose  and 
peered  out  of  the  window.  Nobody  in  sight.  If 
he  could  only  get  down  the  back  way,  but  his 
mother  would  see  him.  The  front  stairway  led 
by  his  aunt's  room.  If  he  only  had  a  rope  he 
could  let  himself  out  of  the  window  like  Tom 
Bailey  in  the  "Story  of  a  Bad  Boy."  There 
used  to  be  a  clothesline  in  the  back  closet.  He 
tiptoed  into  the  entry  and  back  to  the  closet. 
Bully,  it  was  there,  two  long  pieces.  He  would 
take  them  both  to  be  sure.  Back  he  went  to  the 
chamber  and  stealthily  let  them  out  of  the  win 
dow.  Either  was  long  enough. 

Hastily  but  quietly  he  tied  one  end  of  a 
rope  to  the  bed  post  and  tried  it.  It  held.  Then 
he  carefully  knotted  the  other  end  round  his 
waist.  He  was  not  going  to  run  the  risk  of 
warming  his  hands  the  way  Tom  Bailey  did. 
He  knew  better  than  that.  You  bet  he  did. 

Then  he  stuck  his  head  out  of  the  window. 
Nobody  in  sight.  He  drew  it  in  and  then 

45 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

slowly  and  carefully  a  long  thin  leg  came  over 
the  window  sill,  then  another,  followed  by  a 
lanky  body.  There  was  a  pause  and  then  he 
cautiously  grasped  the  rope  and  let  himself 
drop.  There  was  a  wild  clutch  for  the  window, 
a  yell,  and  a  tremendous  splash,  and  the  open 
rain-water  hogshead,  filled  to  the  brim  with  te 
pid  water,  received  him  and  charitably  hid  him 
from  sight. 

He  had  tied  the  wrong  rope  round  his  waist. 

And  when  the  bewildered  mother  came  run 
ning  to  the  door  with  her  rudely  awakened  and 
blinking  baby  in  her  arms,  she  beheld  her  grace 
less  and  dripping  son  climbing  out  of  the  rain 
barrel,  his  hair  plastered  down  on  his  scratched 
face,  and  his  dripping  garments  clinging  close 
to  his  skinny  limbs  and  emphasizing  the  ludi 
crous  lines  of  his  figure. 


He  had  tied  the  wrong  rope 


CHAPTER  III 


"There  was  an  old  woman 
Who  lived  in  a  shoe 
She    had    so    many    children 
She  didn't  know  what  to  do." 

— Mother  Goose. 


JUST  what  kind  of  settlement  poor  Plupy 
had  with  his  father  on  his  return  from 
Boston  that  night  is  known  only  to 
Plupy  and  his  father. 

Before  pitying  the  young  man  too 
much  it  would  be  well  to  remember  that  the 
elder  Shute  was  more  than  locally  famous  for  a 
keen  sense  of  humor,  and  in  his  boyhood  had 
done  perhaps  more  than  his  fair  share  in  turn 
ing  the  village  of  Exeter  upside  down.  So  it 
is  fair  to  suppose  that  a  graphic  description  of 
old  Seth  Tanner  profanely  chasing  two  wholly 
innocent  but  active  boys,  and  the  further  por 
trayal  of  his  son  climbing  dripping  from  the 
rain-water  barrel  would  tend  to  put  him  in  so 
49 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

cheerful  a  humor  as  to  practically  disarm  hostil 
ity  to  that  graceless  youth. 

Whatever  he  thought  or  did  in  the  matter,  he 
made  no  objection  when  Plupy's  mother,  ac 
cording  to  her  custom  in  such  cases,  prepared  a 
most  appetizing  meal  and  carried  it  up  to  the 
imprisoned  youth. 

Indeed,  Plupy's  father  as  he  sat  that  evening 
under  the  apple  tree  smoking,  laughed  heartily 
now  and  then  and  indulged  in  sinful  delight  in 
reminiscences  of  his  boyhood,  which  showed 
him  to  be  in  the  most  cheerful  humor. 

It  was  open  to  suspicion  whether  or  not  he 
was  delighted  beyond  measure  at  the  good  ac 
count  his  son  had  rendered  of  himself  in  his 
fight  with  Pewt,  as  he  was  heard  to  remark  that 
if  he  would  only  lick  that  Watson  boy  too  he 
would  be  satisfied. 

The  family  of  which  Plupy  was  a  most  prom 
inent  if  not  strictly  ornamental  member,  was  the 
most  delightful  family  imaginable.  The  father, 
Mr.  George  Shute,  a  tall,  handsome,  well-built 
and  athletic  man,  was  a  clerk  in  the  Boston  Cus- 

50 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

torn  House,  to  which  municipality  he  betook 
himself  at  a  very  early  hour,  and  returned  at 
5.30  P.  M.  He  knew  everyone  on  the  train, 
had  a  keen  shaft  of  wit  or  a  jolly  laugh  for 
everyone.  His  duties  in  the  office  consisted 
mainly  in  telling  amusing  stories,  and  making 
semi-occasional  entries  in  a  huge  ledger. 

That  these  duties  were  of  a  very  important 
nature  was  evident  from  the  fact  that  he  was  a 
well-paid  official.  His  family  was,  however, 
numerous  and  hearty  to  such  an  astonishing  de 
gree  that  his  income  was  barely  sufficient  for 
their  combined  wants. 

Mrs.  Shute,  Joe  as  he  called  her,  was  a  rather 
plump  woman,  with  a  strong,  handsome,  and 
most  kindly  face.  She  was  an  active,  strong, 
and  constant  worker,  giving  her  whole  time  to 
the  care  and  management  of  her  family,  and 
having  no  time  for  outside  matters.  A  fine 
pianist,  she  never  had  time  to  play.  A  beauti 
ful  alto  singer,  her  voice  was  seldom  heard  ex 
cept  in  singing  cradle  songs  to  the  younger  chil 
dren. 

SI 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Aunt  Sarah,  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Shute,  was  one 
of  those  rare  examples  of  an  utterly  unselfish 
woman,  who  gave  her  entire  energies  to  the  wel 
fare  of  others,  and  in  particular  to  the  swarm 
of  Shute  children,  every  one  of  whom  was  in  her 
eyes  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  accomplished 
and  the  most  obedient  of  children. 

How  such  an  opinion  was  possible  in  the 
mind  of  any  person  of  good  sense  is  not  clear 
to  the  unprejudiced  mind.  Although  certainly 
given  to  vagaries  in  relation  to  these  children, 
in  all  other  respects  she  was  unquestionably  of 
sound  mind  and  memory. 

She  indulged  these  children  lavishly,  which 
was  not  good  for  them,  and  the  only  times  she 
lost  her  temper  in  the  household  was  on  the  fre 
quent  occasions  when  the  elder  Shute,  accom 
panied  by  a  strap  and  the  reluctant  Plupy,  re 
tired  to  the  woodshed  for  important  business 
transactions,  when  she  retired  precipitately,  and 
with  indignant  looks,  to  her  chamber  and 
banged  the  door. 

Again,  she  never  would  believe  the  com- 
52 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

plaints  of  any  persons,  however  irreproachable 
their  character,  who  reported  misdemeanors  of 
her  nephews  or  nieces,  and  even  when  subse 
quent  confessions  were  made  by  the  malefac 
tors,  she  obstinately  maintained  that  they  were 
wrung  from  them  by  threats  of  torture,  and 
were  wholly  unfounded. 

The  oldest  daughter,  Celia,  was  a  dark-eyed 
young  lady  with  long  black  curls — a  demure 
miss,  with  a  mind  attuned  to  music  and  poetry, 
but  with  a  most  unexpected  leaning  for  Beadle's 
Dime  Novels.  The  perusal  of  these  highly- 
flavored,  frowned-on,  but  delightful  books  im 
parted  such  a  style  to  her  own  narratives  that 
when,  as  the  oldest  girl,  she  was  left  in  charge 
of  the  family,  she  seldom  experienced  any  diffi 
culty  in  keeping  them  quiet,  as  the  announce 
ment  that  "Cele's  goin'  to  tell  a  story"  brought 
them  about  her,  respectful  and  attentive,  and 
kept  them  there  breathless  and  deliciously  hor 
rified  until  the  end. 

Although  a  peaceful  damsel,  she  would  in 
cases  of  necessity  maintain  her  authority  by  the 

55 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

sword  even  if  she  had  to  proceed  to  extremities 
and  box  the  ears  of  the  entire  crowd,  one  after 
another. 

Cornelia,  or  Keene,  the  second  daughter,  was 
a  tornado  in  short  skirts.  She  could  run,  climb, 
quarrel,  make  up  faces,  sew,  knit,  do  tatting,  or 
fight  with  her  brother  on  the  slightest  cause.  She 
was  as  lively  as  her  elder  sister  was  quiet,  and 
although  most  of  the  time  a  state  of  most  comi 
cal  warfare  existed  between  herself  and  Plupy, 
she  stuck  by  him  in  adversity,  and  on  many  oc 
casions  when  he  was  hard  pressed  by  enemies 
from  without,  and  the  tide  of  battle  was  going 
against  him,  threw  her  fighting  weight  in  the 
balance,  and  won  glorious  victories  for  the  fam 
ily  cause. 

She  and  Cele  both  had  clear  voices,  remark 
ably  true  to  pitch,  and  sang  the  sad  ballads  of 
the  day  most  tunefully  at  church  sociables,  Sun 
day  school  concerts  and  similar  festivities,  Cele 
accompanying  jinglingly  or  droningly  upon  pi 
ano  or  organ  as  the  case  might  be.  "Now  I  Lay 
Me  Down  to  Sleep,"  "Evangeline,"  "I  Know 

56 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

a  Bank,"  "The  Gypsy's  Warning,"  and  other 
cheerful  madrigals  were  more  than  familiar  to 
audiences  at  these  fascinating  functions. 

Harry,  the  oldest  boy,  familiarly  known  as 
Plupy,  Skinny,  or  Polelegs,  on  account  of  the 
colt-like  angularness  of  his  build,  perhaps  needs 
no  extended  description.  Nature  had  evidently 
made  him  out  of  cast-off  and  misfit  materials. 
He  was  of  astonishing  lankiness,  tow-head 
ed,  freckled,  and  homely,  bearing  not  the 
slightest  resemblance  to  any  member  of  the  fam 
ily.  His  main  object  in  life,  judging  by  his  suc 
cess,  seemed  to  be  getting  into  scrapes  of  his 
own,  for  which  he  was  thrashed,  and  taking 
with  raucous  protestations,  other  boys'  thrash 
ings  which  he  didn't  deserve.  His  ambition  was 
to  be  a  bandman,  and  he  loved  music  even  bet 
ter  than  witnessing  fights  or  riding  on  hacks, 
and  was  gifted  with  a  mellow  alto  voice.  He 
considered  singing  with  his  sisters  as  beneath 
the  dignity  of  a  soon-to-be  cornet  player;  and 
when  forced  by  polite  invitation  or  stern  paren 
tal  command  to  bear  a  part  in  duet,  trio  or  fam- 

57 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

ily  chorus,  purposely  and  with  rare  skill  sang 
so  much  out  of  tune  that  he  was  speedily  ex 
cused  from  further  performance. 

Georgie,  the  next  child,  two  years  younger, 
was  a  very  demure  young  lady,  somewhat  ad 
dicted  to  Sunday  school  and  general  goodness. 
She  had  a  sturdy  little  backbone,  however,  and 
no  threats,  cajoleries  or  sophistries  could  turn 
her  from  a  course  that  received  her  moral  sanc 
tion.  She  was  not  as  gifted  musically  as  her 
brothers  and  sisters,  but  could  commit  to  mem 
ory  with  astonishing  skill  anything  that  she 
read. 

Annie  and  Frank,  four  and  five  years  of  age, 
spent  most  of  their  time  playing  together  or 
fighting,  in  which  they  were  about  equally  pro 
ficient. 

This  propensity  of  theirs  was  utilized  by 
Plupy,  who  always  took  occasion,  when  no  re 
straining  influence  was  nigh,  to  set  them  fight 
ing  and  doubled  himself  up  with  sinful  pleasure 
at  the  comical  contortions  of  the  tiny  warriors. 

Ned,  the  baby,  was  a  handsome,  fat,  and  rosy 

58 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

youngster  about  eight  months  of  age,  just  be 
ginning  to  creep  about,  and  the  object  of  de 
voted  attentions  from  the  entire  family. 

In  fact,  all  the  Shute  children  were  good 
looking  except  Plupy,  who  seemed  to  be  a  sort 
of  black  sheep  in  various  ways,  which,  while  it 
at  times  caused  him  to  feel  a  bit  lonesome,  af 
forded  him  a  sort  of  pride  in  his  peculiar  claims 
to  distinction. 

That  high  jinks  were  the  order  of  the  day  in 
that  household  was  not  surprising.  It  was  a 
wonder  that  the  good  mother  and  aunt  kept 
their  sanity  from  day  to  day.  Scarcely  a  day 
passed  but  what  a  temporary  hospital  was  set 
up  in  Aunt  Sarah's  or  mother's  room.  Plupy 
had  been  gashed  all  over  with  jackknives,  stone- 
bruised  to  satiety,  and  green-appled  almost  to 
extinction. 

In  times  of  epidemic  the  house  was  a  sort  of 
insane  hospital.  Did  one  child  return  from 
school  with  the  seeds  of  chicken-pox  deeply  im 
bedded  in  its  system,  every  brother  and  sister 
straightway  contracted  the  disease.  Did  one 

59 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

small  unfortunate  develop  measles,  the  whole 
seven  at  once  developed  sore  throats,  inflamed 
eyes,  and  fretful  dispositions,  and  made  life  a 
burden  for  themselves  and  their  faithful  nurses. 
No  child  escaped,  and  the  different  maladies  oc 
casionally  claimed  an  adult  Shute  as  its  prey. 

Indeed,  when  mumps  came  along  and  took 
violent  possession  of  the  family,  the  mother  had 
the  worst  case  of  all,  and  the  spectacle  of  seven 
children  and  one-grown-up  sitting  in  the  sick 
room  with  their  swollen  and  distorted  faces 
bearing  ludicrous  resemblance  to  huge  pump 
kins,  not  one  of  them  daring  to  laugh  for  fear 
of  cracking  their  jaws,  was  a  most  amusing 
sight. 

The  children  were  generally  well,  however, 
and  in  the  opinion  of  good  Doctor  Perry,  the 
family  physician,  "as  healthy  as  rats."  Plupy, 
whose  feet  were  wet  every  day  from  the  first 
fall  of  snow  in  December  to  its  disappearance 
in  the  ensuing  March,  had  hideous  colds  and  a 
portentously  hollow  cough,  and  added  to  his 
peculiarities  of  appearance  by  wearing  a  red 

60 


1 


5 

<x 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

flannel  rag  around  his    neck,    enclosing    pork 
sprinkled  with  black  pepper. 

They  were  indeed  an  engaging  and  amusing 
family. 


CHAPTER  IF 


"The  amount  of  devilment  those  three  boys  can  crowd 
into  a  half  holiday  beats  all."— George  Shute  (soliloquiz 
ing  viva  voce). 


i 


morning  after  the  fall  of  Plupy 
the  family  were  sitting  at  break 
fast.  The  father  had  departed  to 
Boston,  and  the  children  were 
ranged  about  the  table,  the  baby 
next  to  its  mother,  Plupy  and  Keene  carefully 
separated  from  each  other  by  the  width  of  the 
table,  to  prevent  active  hostilities  which  occa 
sionally  arose  between  them. 

A  slight  cloud  was  visible  on  the  expressive 
features  of  that  young  man,  as  he  was  not  al 
lowed  coffee,  and  Cele  and  Keene  were  per 
mitted  twice  a  week  to  drink  a  much-diluted  cup 
of  that  liquid,  and  were  assuming  some  airs  in 
consequence.  Piupy  had  also  been  severely 
reprimanded  by  his  mother  and  had  incurred 
the  displeasure  of  the  family  by  taking  advan- 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

tage  of  an  opportunity  when  his  mother's  back 
was  turned,  to  offer  the  baby  a  pickle  to  suck, 
which  evoked  hideous  faces  and  loud  howls  of 
disgust  from  that  small  martyr,  and  brought 
the  entire  family  to  his  chair  to  soothe  and 
caress  him.  As  a  further  punishment  poor 
Plupy  was  promptly  restricted  to  butter  on  his 
fritters  instead  of  a  combination  of  butter,  su 
gar  and  syrup. 

Attention  was  happily  diverted  from  the  in 
cident  by  the  arrival  of  the  kind-hearted  black 
smith,  who,  thinking  he  had  been  a  little  severe 
the  day  before,  entered  the  dining-room  with  a 
neighborly  freedom,  and  handed  a  beautiful 
bunch  of  chrysanthemums  with  the  words, 
"Here,  Mrs.  Shute,  thot  ye'd  like  these  er  old 
woman's  Christian  Anthems,  they've  jest  be 
gun  to  bloom.  Didn't  hev  no  luck  with  the 
tarnation  pinks  this  year." 

Plupy's  mother  thanked  the  worthy  man  and 
he  withdrew  and  soon  the  musical  tink-tink  of 
his  hammer  on  the  anvil  broke  the  summer  si 
lence. 

65 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Just  then  Beany's  whistle  was  heard  in  the 
street  followed  by  a  mellow  "Hoo-ee"  and 
Plupy,  hastily  wiping  his  mouth  on  his  napkin 
and  cramming  it  unfolded  in  his  napkin  ring, 
muttered  "Scuse  me  please"  and  was  making 
for  the  door,  when  his  mother  called  him. 

"Harry,  have  you  fed  the  hens?" 

"Yessum,  fore  breakfus,"  said  Plupy,  nod 
ding  violently. 

"Have  you  filled  the  woodbox?" 

"No-o-om,"  said  Plupy,  dubiously  casting  a 
side  glance  at  that  cavernous  receptacle,  "they 


is  some  in  it." 


"Well,  before  you  go  off,  I  want  you  to  fill 
the  woodbox,  and  then  you  must  go  down  town 
for  some  errands." 

"Ma,  can't  Keene  'n  Cele  go,  they  don't  have 
nothin'  to  do?"  queried  Plupy  with  an  injured 
air. 

"Yes  we  do  too,  Ma,"  retorted  both  young 
ladies  warmly. 

"We  have  to  help  get  breakfast,"  said  Keene. 

"'N  wash  dishes,"  added  Cele. 
66 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

"'N  sweep,"  said  Keene. 

"'N  take  care  of  the  baby,  'n  dress  Frankie  'n 
Annie,"  said  Cele. 

"'N  practise  our  music  lessons,"  said  Keene. 

"'N  sew  'n  do  tattin',"  said  Cele. 

"'N  do  mos'  all  the  errands,"  summed  up 
Keene,  triumphantly. 

"Aw,"  said  Plupy  derisively. 

"That  will  do,  children,"  said  Plupy's  moth 
er,  "now  go  right  off  and  get  in  your  wood, 
Harry. 

Thus  adjured,  Plupy  went  to  the  door  and 
sent  a  loud  "Hoo-ee"  into  space,  which  prompt 
ly  brought  "Beany,"  a  plump  and  wide  awake 
youngster,  from  across  the  road. 

"Hi,  Beany,"  said  Plupy,  "whatcher  goin'  to 
do?" 

"Les  go  down  to  Jim  Ellison's  blacksmith 
shop  and  plug  hosses  with  sling-shots.  Yester 
day  Jim  was  tryin'  to  shoe  Ed.  Towle's  father's 
Silvertail  and  me  and  Fatty  Oilman  was  hid  be 
hind  Si  Smith's  fence  and  jest  as  soon  as  Jim 
would  get  one  of  her  hoofs  up  between  his  legs 

67 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

we  would  let  ding  at  her,  and  she  would  rare 
up  and  jump  and  kick,  and  Jim  would  go  over 
backwards,  holler  and  swear  and  lick  her. 
N'bimeby  he  got  Bill  Hartnett  to  put  a  twist 
on  her  nose  and  then  she  would  jump  and  they 
couldn't  shoe  her  and  they  told  Ed.'s  father 
never  to  bring  her  there  agen,"  said  Beany  in 
great  glee. 

"No,  less  not  do  that,"  demurred  Plupy,  "got 
licked  like  time  for  that  las'  Saturday.  Old  Si 
told  father  about  it  and  he  said  he  would  skin 
me  if  he  ever  caught  me  doin'  it  agen." 

"Harry,"  called  his  mother,  "I  am  waiting 
for  that  wood." 

"Yessum,"  said  Plupy.  "Come  on  Beany  'n 
help  a  feller." 

"All  right,  Plupy,"  said  Beany,  "betcher  I 
can  lug  a  bigger  armful  than  you." 

"Betcher  can't,"  said  Plupy. 

"Betcher!" 

"Betcher!" 

So  each  boy  rushed  to  the  shed,  loaded  him 
self  with  huge  armfuls  of  pine  wood  and  stag- 

68 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

gered  groaningly  to  the  kitchen.  Now,  in  their 
mutual  emulation  they  had  piled  it  up  so  high 
that  they  could  not  see  where  they  were  going, 
and  Plupy  with  bulging  eyes  and  contorted  coun 
tenance  turned  to  the  left  by  mistake  and  be 
fore  his  mother  could  warn  him  deposited  his 
entire  load  with  a  crash  in  the  kitchen  sink, 
much  to  his  amazement  and  confusion. 

While  the  family,  aroused  from  the  break 
fast  by  the  unusual  noise,  were  doubling  with 
laughter  over  Plupy's  misfortune,  a  most  out 
rageous  rattling,  bumping,  banging  and  clashing 
was  heard,  followed  by  protracted  howls  of  an 
guish  from  the  cellar.  Beany  had  also  blindly 
groped  his  way  with  even  a  larger  load  than 
Plupy,  had  missed  the  woodbox  and  had  fallen 
down  the  cellar  stairs,  carrying  in  his  headlong 
course  tin  pans,  pails,  mops  and  dustpans  with 
which  the  passage  was  hung  and  landing  in  the 
soft  soap  vat. 

In  an  instant  there  was  a  confusion  of 
tongues,  and  great  juvenile  excitement,  in  the 
midst  of  which  the  two  much-tried  ladies  rushed 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

to  the  rescue  and  bore  the  soap-besmeared  and 
luckless  youth  to  the  kitchen,  where  it  was 
found  he  was  not  seriously  hurt. 

The  filling  of  the  wood  box  was  then  com 
pleted  without  further  accident  and  the  boys 
presented  themselves  to  Plupy's  mother  for  fur 
ther  orders. 

uNow  Harry,  remember,  I  want  you  to  go  to 
Mr.  Haley's  and  get  me  three  pounds  of  steak 
and  three  pounds  of  pork  sausages,  then  to  Mr. 
Conner's  and  get  a  half  bushel  of  potatoes  and 
two  dozen  eggs.  Now  don't  forget,  and  stop 
pinching  Elbridge." 

UA11  right,  Ma,  I'll  remember,"  said  Plupy, 
"three  pounds  of  steak  and  pork  sausages  at 
old  man  Haley's,  and  half  a  bushel  of  potatoes 
and  two  dozen  eggs  at  old  Tom  Conner's,"  he 
continued  glibly,  "we  can  remember,  can't  we 
Beany?" 

uYou  bet,"  said  Beany. 

So  the  two  small  boys  went  gaily  down  town, 
chasing,  pushing,  wrestling  and  tripping  each 
other  up. 

72 


Beany  took  with  him  tin  pans, 
pails,  mops  and  dustpans 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

"Mr.  Haley,  wanter  half  bushel  er  pork  sau 
sages  and  three  pounds  er  steak,"  piped  Plupy 
as  they  entered  the  market. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  the  amazed 
dealer,  wiping  his  hands  on  his  rough  blue 
frock.  "Your  mother  never  sent  you  for  a  half 
bushel  of  sausages." 

"Yes,  she  did  too,  didn't  she,  Beany?"  af 
firmed  Plupy. 

"Yes  she  did,  honest  now,"  said  Beany, 
"three  pounds  of  steak  and  a  half  bushel  of 
pork  sausages.  Hope  to  die." 

"Well,"  said  the  dealer  as  he  fished  several 
festoons  of  that  dainty  from  an  ice  box,  "don't 
believe  I  have  got  more'n  fifteen  pounds  in  the 
shop,  but  I'll  take  those  up,  and  if  she  wants 
some  more  I  can  get  'em,  but  I  don't  see  what 
she  can  do  with  so  many." 

The  boys  clattered  out  of  the  shop  and  went 
down  Water  street,  occasionally  stopping  to 
look  in  store  windows.  When  after  an  inter 
minable  time  they  arrived  at  Conner's  store 
they  had  forgotten  what  they  wanted.  "What- 

75 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

cher  'spose  it  was,  Beany?"  said  Plupy. 

"I've  forgot,"  said  Beany,  wrinkling  up  his 
brow.  "It  was  three  pounds  of  something  and 
a  half  bushel  of  something  else." 

"I  know,"  said  Plupy,  "we  got  a  half  bushel 
of  sausages  at  old  Haley's,  and  it  was  two 
pounds  of  potatoes  and  two  dozen  clothespins," 
said  Plupy  delightedly,  "I  tell  you,  Beany,  I 
don't  forget  things  very  easy." 

"Umph,"  growled  the  old  gentleman,  on  re 
ceiving  the  order,  "some  folks  give  mighty 
small  orders." 

"Praps  she  wanted  to  see  if  they  was  good 
ones,  father  said  the  last  potatoes  we  got  here 
wasn't  bigger'n  bird  shot,"  explained  Plupy 
pacifically. 

"Boy,  don't  be  sassy,"  said  the  old  gentle 
man,  firing  up. 

"That's  what  he  said,"  said  Plupy,  edging 
towards  the  door,  "I  ain't  sassy." 

Their  errands  finished,  they  debated  what  to 
do.  Plupy  wanted  to  go  fishing  for  eels  down 
by  the  raceway,  Beany  to  see  if  they  couldn't  get 

76 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

a  ride  on  a  hack.  After  much  argument  they 
compromised  matters  by  going  up  to  Major 
Blake's  stable,  where  a  variety  of  mishaps  be 
fell  them. 


79 


CHAPTER  V 


Mike  introduces  a  novel  but  effective  method   of  dis 
cipline. 


i 


Squamscott  House  stables  were 
on  Court  street  in  Exeter  and  well 
in  the  rear  of  that  flourishing  hotel. 
It  was  a  most  interesting  and  lively 
place  at  all  times,  but  not  exactly 
the  sort  of  a  place  in  which  one  would  like  to 
bring  up  children. 

The  class  of  assistants  in  the  stable  was  some 
what  given  to  liquor  and  low  language,  but 
were  in  the  main  hearty,  good-natured  fellows, 
who  were  nobody's  enemies  but  their  own.  They 
were  perfectly  willing  to  let  other  people  do 
their  work,  and  particularly  civil  to  Plupy  and 
Beany,  who  were  only  too  delighted  to  do  any 
work,  except  at  home,  from  washing  carriages 
to  rubbing  down  horses  and  running  errands. 
Adjoining  the  stables  was  the  harness  shop  of 
80 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

old  Mr.  Kellogg,  a  very  worthy  and  decidedly 
grumpy  old  gentleman  who  passed  his  waking 
hours  in  alternately  straddling  a  wooden  horse 
and  drawing  waxed  thread  through  harness 
leather,  and  chasing  disrespectful  urchins  with  a 
strap. 

He  glared  at  the  world  through  horn  spec 
tacles  and  was  the  most  formidable  looking  old 
chap  imaginable. 

As  the  boys  arrived  at  the  stable  a  loud  and 
profane  altercation  was  heard  inside,  followed 
by  a  noisy  scuffle,  as  the  head  hostler,  old  Mike, 
came  out  of  the  broad  door  backwards,  drag 
ging  after  him  the  reluctant  and  writhing  figure 
of  Dinkey  Nealey,  who  was  in  a  condition  of 
intoxication  frightful  to  behold.  After  old 
Mike  had  kicked  him  into  the  street  he  beck 
oned  to  the  two  boys,  who  approached  much  re 
freshed  in  mind  by  the  not  unusual  but  intensely 
interesting  spectacle. 

"Come  in,  bhoys,"  said  Mike,  who  had  kissed 
the  blarney  stone  in  early  life.  "Oi've  been 
lukin'  for  two  schmart  foine  young  felleys  to  do 

8l 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

jist  a  wee  bit  o'  wurrk.  Dinky's  droonk  and 
the  Gate  mare  'n  pianny  box  boogy's  ordered 
fur  noine  o'clock.  Jist  ta-a-ke  hold  noo  'en 
wash  the  boogy,  'n  help  a  mon." 

Willingly  the  boys  complied,  and  while  one 
squirted  water  from  a  small  foot  pump,  the  oth 
er  whirled  the  jacked-up  wheels  and  plied  the 
sponges.  But,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  the  pos 
session  of  any  sort  of  an  engine  for  throwing 
water,  from  a  rubber  ball  with  a  hole  in  it  to  a 
force  pump,  induces  in  the  mind  of  a  small  boy 
an  unconquerable  desire  to  wet  someone  down. 

So  Plupy  and  Beany  had  been  engaged  in 
their  delightful  pastime  but  a  few  minutes  when 
Beany  improved  the  occasion  by  turning  the 
hose  on  Plupy  and  thoroughly  wetting  his  paper 
collar  and  false  bosom.  Plupy  promptly  dodged 
behind  a  partition  and  retaliated  by  taking 
Beany  in  the  small  of  the  back  with  a  full  stable 
sponge  and  then  from  his  comparatively  safe 
position  he  alternately  peeped  and  dodged, 
jeering  at  Beany,  who  let  fly  at  him  whenever 
his  head  appeared. 

82 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Now  "Old  Mike,"  seeing  Plupy  apparently 
loafing,  tiptoed  softly  along  with  the  stable 
broom,  a  most  formidable  instrument  made  of 
birch  withes,  with  the  praiseworthy  intention  of 
giving  him  a  fraternal  welt,  as  a  mild  incentive 
to  renewed  exertion. 

Arrived  within  reach  he  sprang  from  his  con 
cealment  with  a  "Whirroo !"  of  triumph,  just  as 
Plupy  poked  out  his  hand  and  Beany  sent  a 
stream  hissing  in  his  direction.  Back  dodged 
Plupy  just  in  time  to  receive  the  broom  across 
his  back,  while  the  stream  of  water  struck  old 
Mike  fairly  in  his  broad  and  hitherto  unwashed 
face,  sending  him  staggering  backwards,  cough 
ing  and  strangling. 

"Aaugh-aaugh-ye  murdherin'  divils,  ough-aa- 
a-ugh,"  he  coughed,  doubling  himself  up,  while 
Beany  and  Plupy,  having  rapidly  put  the  road 
way  between  them  and  their  convulsed  victim, 
awaited  his  recovery  in  some  trepidation. 

Mike  was  not  long  in  recovering  his  breath, 
and  grasping  his  broom  looked  about  balefully 
for  the  boys,  muttering  threats.  Becoming 

85 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

aware  of  their  escape  he  began  to  wheedle,  "Ar- 
rah,  now,  byes,  oi  doant  ta-a-ke  me  wather  jist 
that  wa-a-y  or  so  much  av  it.  Coom  over  noo," 
crooking  his  huge  forefinger  at  the  boys. 

"Guess  not,"  said  Beany,  "ye  want  to  lam 


us." 


"Divil  a  bit,"  said  the  bland  Michael.  "Come 
on  noo,  Auld  Moike  wo-o-nt  hur-rt  the  loikes 
of  ye." 

"Cross  your  throat,"  said  Plupy. 

Mike  gave  an  exaggerated  swoop  across  his 
windpipe. 

"Say,  'Hope  to  die,'  "  insisted  Beany. 

Mike  raised  his  horny  hands  aloft  and  called 
down  upon  his  head  the  most  terrible  penalties, 
at  the  conclusion  of  which  impressive  ceremon 
ies  the  boys,  reassured,  approached  the  restored 
Milesian,  and  resumed  operation  on  the  buggy 
with  the  sponges  and  chamois,  Mike  having  laid 
an  embargo  on  the  force  pump,  occasionally 
breaking  into  spasms  of  laughter  over  Mike's 
mishap. 

"Be  gob,  byes,"  said  Mike,  smiling  broadly, 
86 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

"f'ye'd  squir-r-ted  some  of  th'  rale  auld  sthuft 
at  me,  oi  wouldn't  ha  moinded  it,  but  wather 
from  an  auld  pump,  aaugh !"  he  finished  ex 
pressively,  and  he  betook  himself  gruntingly  to 
his  work  of  rubbing  down  the  Gate  mare,  a 
shapely,  long-bodied  bay. 

For  a  while  nothing  was  heard  but  the  sooth 
ing  grunts  of  Mike  as  he  rubbed  and  curried 
and  smoothed  the  mare,  and  the  subdued  gig 
gles  of  the  two  boys  as  they  polished  the  buggy. 

"Now,  byes,"  said  Mike,  having  harnessed 
the  mare,  "wad  ye  be  a  ta-a-kin  ahl  day  for  a  tin 
minit  jhob?  Rhun  out  th'  boogy,"  and  they 
held  up  the  shafts  while  Mike  backed  the  mare 
between  them  and  held  her  while  they  fastened 
the  traces  and  breeching.  This  done  they  were 
allowed  to  climb  into  the  buggy  and  were  told 
to  drive  the  mare  around  to  the  hotel  where  the 
gentleman  who  had  ordered  her  was  waiting. 

Some  dispute  arose  as  to  who  should  drive, 
but  this  was  cut  short  by  Mike,  who  promptly 
decided  in  favor  of  Beany,  promising  Plupy 
next  chance.  "Shure  now,  Polelegs,  let  little 

8? 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Fat  Belly  dhrive  this  wanst,  an*  yees  can  dhrive 
the  nixt  out." 

So  Beany,  gleefully  seizing  the  reins,  clucked 
to  the  mare  and  she  obediently  trotted  out  of 
the  stable  yard.  Drawing  up  in  front  of  the 
hotel  Plupy  got  out  and  made  the  announcement 
at  the  office  that  the  team  was  ready,  and  the 
sporty-looking  man,  who  was  waiting,  at  once 
retired  to  the  bar-room  for  another  bracer,  tell 
ing  the  boys  to  trot  her  round  the  square. 

This  was  a  most  delightful  surprise  to  the 
boys  and  away  they  went.  The  Gate  mare  was 
a  well-broken  animal,  but  high  spirited  and  fast, 
and  in  a  brush  down  the  street  could  hold  her 
own  with  any  stable  crack  in  the  town,  not  ex 
cepting  Levi  Towle's  "Johnny  Roach." 

Now  everything  would  have  gone  smoothly 
had  not  the  boys  overtaken  Fatty  Gilman  and 
Billy  Swett,  who  were  driving  "Old  Chub," 
Fatty's  family  horse,  which,  although  old  and 
fat,  was  quite  fast,  and  as  Fatty  at  once  pulled 
out  the  whip  and  began  to  lambaste  his  old  plug, 
emphasizing  his  desire  by  loud  yells  of  encour- 

88 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

agement,  our  friends  could  not  resist  the  temp 
tation  to  go  down  the  stretch  with  them. 

A  word  was  enough  for  the  mare  at  any  time, 
but  a  yell  such  as  the  boys  at  once  let  out,  and 
a  cut  with  the  whip  was  more  than  sufficient. 
It  wasn't  safe  to  whip  the  Gate  mare.  She  went 
into  the  collar  with  a  jump  that  nearly  jerked 
the  boys'  heads  off,  passed  the  other  horse  as  if 
he  had  been  hitched  to  a  post,  and  disappeared 
up  the  street  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 

It  was  nearly  a  mile  from  town  before  the 
frightened  boys  managed  to  pull  the  excited 
mare  down  sufficiently  to  turn  her  into  a  yard 
and  stop  her. 

Then  they  got  out  and  petted  and  soothed 
her,  fed  her  with  grass  and  dusted  the  buggy 
with  their  handkerchiefs,  and  then  carefully 
drove  back.  When  they  arrived  at  the  hotel 
they  found  the  sporty-looking  man  and  his 
friend  very  much  excited  and  indignant,  and 
arguing  the  matter  loudly  and  profanely  with 
'old  Major  Blake,  the  proprietor,  who  in  turn 
was  berating  the  innocent  Michael  for  having 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

let  the  boys  drive  the  mare. 

A  general  shout  greeted  their  appearance, 
and  as  they  drove  up  Mike  seized  the  horse, 
and  the  Major  dragged  the  boys  from  the  bug 
gy  and  held  them  firmly  by  the  collar. 

"Lemme  be,"  said  Plupy  indignantly,  "I 
didn't  do  nothin'." 

"Me  neither,"  said  Beany  with  his  head 
drawn  about  a  foot  out  of  plumb  by  the  strong 
grip  of  the  burly  Major. 

"You  infernal  scoundrels,"  roared  the  Ma 
jor,  "what  did  you  drive  that  mare  that  way 
for?" 

"Well,"  said  Beany,  that  man  told  us  to 
drive  her  around  till  he  got  ready,  'n,  'n," 

"'N  me'n  Beany  started  her  'n  Fatty  'n  Billy 
Swett  came  along  with  a  trotter,  'n  they  yelled 
and  went  by  us,  'n,  'n,"  chimed  in  Plupy,  "n," 

"'N  first  we  knowed,"  said  Beany,  "she  start 
ed  'n  passed  them  jest  flukin'  'n  we  both  pulled 
'n  pulled  'n  we  got  way  up  t'  old  man  Giddinses 
'fore  we  could  stop  her,  'n,  'n," 

"'N  you  sh'd  seen  us  pass  Fatty's  boss,  gorry, 
90 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

we  went  so  fast  t'  I  couldn't  see  the  telegraph 
poles  mos',"  said  Beany,  smiling  expansively 
and  conscious  that  he  touched  a  responsive 
chord  in  the  breast  of  the  old  Major. 

"Oi  guess,  Major,  ye'd  better  lit  the  byes 
goa,"  said  Mike,  "shure  taint  ivery  bye  that 
w'd  bring  her  back  without  sma-a-shin  th'  boo- 
gy,  its  too  good  harses  ye  has,  ontoirely.  Wun 
av  Char-r-les  Toales  harses  woodent  run  awaa 
if  ye  hit  im  with  a  goon." 

At  this  the  Major,  much  mollified,  let  go  the 
boys'  collars,  and  withdrew  to  the  porch,  where 
he  seated  himself  ponderously  and  smoked  con 
templatively,  while  Mike,  accompanied  by  the 
boys,  returned  to  the  stable,  old  Mike  taking 
much  credit  to  himself  for  the  adroit  way  in 
which  he  extricated  them  from  what  he  termed 
"a  divil  av  a  schrape." 

"Shure,  byes,"  he  said  confidentially,  "twas 
auld  Mike  that  sa-a-ved  yer  loife  this  toime. 
Auld  Moike  hez  a  wa-a-y  with  th'  auld  Major. 
He'd  a  kilt  ye  shure.  An'  ye  wouldn't  be  aboove 
hilpin  a  mon  with  jist  a  bit  av  work?" 

93 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Both  boys  assured  him  of  their  willingness  to 
do  anything  in  reason,  and  shortly  found  them 
selves  with  jack  and  grease-pot,  greasing  axles, 
and  their  own  hands  and  clothes  rather  indis 
criminately,  while  Mike  rubbed  down  the  horses 
and  wheedled  the  boys,  stimulating  them  to  fur 
ther  exertions  by  jovial  and  uproarious  Hibern 
ian  songs,  occasionally  stopping  to  apostrophize 
the  horses  somewhat  profanely,  when  they 
cringed  and  winced  under  his  vigorous  hands. 

"Twas  in  the  moonth  av  Joon, 
From  me  ho-o-me  Oi  sthar-r-rted." 

"Say,  Mike,"  said  Beany,  "do  you  know  what 
old  Seth  Tanner  said  about  ye?" 

"Noi,  oi  doant,  'n  oi  doant  care  a  dom  fhwat 
he  says,"  said  Mike,  stopping  his  song  a  mo 
ment  and  then  resuming. 

"Ahl  tti  byes  yn  gals  wuz  nearly  broken-hearted, 
Kissed  me  sister  dear-r,  yn" 

"He  says  he  can  lick  ye,  Mike,"  said  Plupy 
94 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

in  a  tentative  manner. 

"Oho,"  said  Mike,  suspending  operations 
again,  "he  sid  thot,  dud  he?  Th'  auld  dronken 
bhum,  auld  Mike  cud  lick  tin  of  the  loikes  av 
him,  till  him  thot!" 

"W  thin  01  kissed  me  wither 
Dhrank   a  pint   av  bheer,   me  faleins  for   to 
smither." 

"Mike,  why  didn't  you  go  to  war?  Old  Seth 
did,"  inquired  Beany  again. 

"Faith,"  said  Mike,  "'twud  be  gude  riddance 
t'  auld  Seth  'f  he'd  sthaid  there/' 

"But  why  didn't  you  go,  Mike?"  insisted 
Beany. 

"Wull,"  said  Mike  with  a  complaisant  smile, 
"the  bist  min  av  th'  toon  had  to  sthay  t'  hoom 
with  th'  la-a-dies,  an'  th'  bist  lukin'  wans  too." 

"Aw  now,"  said  Plupy,  disgustedly,  "that 
ain't  th'  reason." 

"Arra  now,  whot  a  bye  yez  be  for  knowin' 
fule  things.  Well,  oi  alwuz  think  th'  bhut  ind 
95 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

av  agoon  th'  sa-a-fist  ind,  av  yez  kape  away  from 
both  inds,  'n  th'  sa-a-fist  ind  av  a  sword  is  th' 
handle,  excipt  for  the  other  felly.  Bhut  th'  bist 
wa-a-y-y'  fight  is  with  a  wee  sthick  av  black 
thorn,  or  with  a  mon's  two  fhists,  begob." 

"Was  you  a  good  fighter,  Mike?"  queried 
Beany. 

"Oi  wuz  thot,"  said  Mike. 

"Could  you  lick  Fuzzy  Thurston?"  said 
Plupy  in  turn. 

"Oi  cud  that,  aisy,"  said  Mike. 

"Why  didn't  you  las  Saturday  night,  when 
he  called  you  a  broad  faced  Mick?"  persisted 
Plupy,  somewhat  impolitely. 

"He  was  droonk,  'n  a  rale  Oirishman  niver 
hits  a  mon  whin  he  is  droonk." 

"Sposin  they  is  both  drunk?"  asked  Beany. 

"Wull,"  said  Mike,  with  a  reminiscent  grin, 
"th'  has  been  toimes  whin  oi  wuz  myshtified 
with  th'  drink  moiself,  'n  things  wuz  a  bit  loive- 
ly."  He  leaned  against  the  door  of  the  barn, 
filled  his  pipe  with  black  plug,  put  on  the  cover, 
tipped  it  upside  down,  and  began  to  puff  loudly. 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

A  terrific  odor  of  burning  tobacco  arose,  Mike 
puffed  and  sniffed  ecstatically,  and  closed  his 
eyes. 

"Mike,"  said  Plupy,  "whatcher  smoking, 
rope?" 

"Nor,"  said  Mike  dreamily,  "th'  bist  of  auld 
nagur  hid." 

Suddenly  there  came  a  flash  and  an  explo 
sion;  lighting  up  Mike's  face  as  with  a  halo, 
and  the  bowl  of  the  pipe  disappeared  as  if  by 
enchantment,  leaving  Mike  holding  about  an 
inch  of  the  stem  in  his  teeth,  and  with  a  look  of 
complete  bewilderment  on  his  honest  counte 
nance. 

"Howly  Hivins,"  he  ejaculated  at  length,  "oi 
thot  someone  had  foired  a  goon  at  me." 

"Did  it  hurt  ye,  Mike?"  asked  the  two  boys, 
who,  although  entirely  innocent  of  complicity  in 
the  trick,  were  so  full  of  laughter  they  could 
scarcely  speak. 

"Hur-r-t,  is  ot?"  said  Moike,  eyeing  the  boys 
furtively  as  they  approached,   "ho-ho  it's  not 
hur-r-t  that  oi  am  at  ahl  at  ahl.     Auld  Moike 
97 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

niver  moinds  a  jhoke.  Oho,"  he  continued 
pointing  at  something  on  the  ground  near,  "luk 
at  th'  ould  poipe." 

"As  the  boys  approached  to  look,  Mike  made 
a  sudden  spring,  his  long  arms  reached  out  like 
fish-poles,  his  huge  hands  grasped  each  collar 
and  in  a  second  the  astonished  boys  were  mak 
ing  their  rapid  but  unwilling  way  towards  the 
huge  watering  trough. 

"We  didn't  do  it,  Mike,  honest  now,  hope  to 
die,  cross  our  throats,"  they  yelled  in  terror. 

"Ye  young  divils,  oi'll  tache  ye  to  play  jhokes 
on  an  auld  mon.  First  yez  squir-r-t  me  full  of 
wather,  'n  thin  ye  thry  to  blow  me  oop  with 
poodher.  Oi  can't  set  fire  to  yez,  for  yez  too 
grane  to  burn,  bhut  oi'll  give  yez  ahl  th'  wather 
yez  want." 

In  vain  they  twisted,  writhed  and  struggled. 
In  vain  they  protested.  In  they  went  all  over, 
and  as  two  dripping,  bedraggled  and  indignant 
boys  legged  it  for  home,  they  solemnly  prom 
ised  to  keep  out  of  low  company  for  the  future, 
a  promise  they  broke  the  next  day. 
98 


-si 

•»•* 


CHAPTER  VI 


Plupy  tries  to  blend  a  dog  fight  and  a  very  exclusive  social 
function  into  one  harmonious  whole. 


*HE  thorough  drenching  Plupy  had 
received  made  it  incumbent  on  that 


•  unfortunate  youth  to  go  to  bed  un 

til  his  clothes  dried.  To  speak 
more  accurately,  he  did  not  go  to 
bed,  but  retired  to  his  room,  and  attired  in  gar 
ments  insufficient  for  public  appearance,  but 
quite  appropriate  for  a  hot  day,  leaned  from 
the  window  and  viewed  the  outer  world  with 
bitterness  and  repining  in  his  heart. 

He  was  a  little  more  afflicted  by  his  banish 
ment  on  seeing  Beany,  whose  wardrobe  was 
more  extensive  than  his,  restricted  to  the  pa 
ternal  yard,  but  not  immured  in  a  dungeon. 
And  he  had  promised  to  go  in  swimming  with 
the  Chadwick  boys  that  afternoon  at  the  "Ed- 
dy." 

101 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

If  Cele  would  only  come  up  and  read  "Billy 
Bowlegs"  or  "Nat  Todd"  to  him,  there  would 
be  some  fun.  But  Cele  was  mad  because  he 
had  written  a  letter  to  Billy  Swett  and  signed 
Cele's  name  to  it.  Father  said  they  sent  people 
to  jail  sometimes  for  that.  He  said  it  was,  he 
couldn't  remember  the  name,  but  it  sounded  like 
fudging.  It  couldn't  be  that  because  fudging 
was  cheating  in  playing  marbles  when  you  got 
up  nearer  than  you  ought  to.  Anyway  he  said 
it  was  something  pretty  tough. 

It  was  just  like  Cele  to  be  mad  at  such  a  lit 
tle  thing  as  that.  Any  way  she  might  at  least 
have  sent  up  the  book.  Girls  were  mean  things 
anyway.  If  he  had  a  brother  penned  up  in  a 
room,  you  bet  he  would  plug  something  up  into 
his  window,  a  book,  or  some  juju  paste  or  a 
picture  paper  or  some  green  apples  or  some 
thing. 

As  Plupy  thus  gloomily  meditated,  he  saw  a 

farmer's  team  coming  down  the  street,  followed 

by  a  savage-looking  bulldog,  a  strange  dog,  and 

his  thoughts  took  a  sudden  turn  into  more  ex- 

102 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

citing  channels. 

"Gosh,"  he  bet  there  would  be  a  dog  fight 
when  that  dog  went  by  old  Si  Smith's  store.  His 
dog  always  came  out  at  strange  dogs.  There 
would  be  a  fight  sure  and  he  wouldn't  see  it. 
That  was  just  his  luck.  If  it  was  anyone  else 
there  would  be  a  dog  fight  right  in  front  of  his 
window,  but  he  never  had  any  luck,  not  he.  He 
bet  it  would  be  a  good  one  and  he  wouldn't  see 
it.  Beany  could,  but  Beany  always  had  good 
luck,  but  he  didn't.  Beany's  folks  weren't  as 
mean  as  his.  They  let  Beany  go  out  in  his  yard, 
where  he  could  see  dog  fights  and  lots  of  things. 

All  at  once  there  was  a  sound  like  pulling  a 
board,  fastened  with  rusty  nails,  from  a  dry 
goods  box,  again  repeated,  the  opening  snarl  of 
a  dog  fight.  Plupy  leaned  from  the  window;  he 
could  seen  Beany  in  great  excitement  looking 
down  the  street.  The  sounds  grew  more  con 
fused,  snarls,  short  muffled  growls,  the  voices 
of  excited  bystanders.  Plupy  projected  a  yell 
of  inquiry  to  Beany. 

"It's  a  buster,"  said  Beany,  jumping  up  and 
103 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

down,  "they  has  got  right  hold  of  each  other's 
gozzles  and  won't  let  go.  Now  the  old  man's 
layin'  onto  'em  with  his  whip,"  said  Beany, 
jumping  up  and  down  in  his  excitement,  "now 
old  Si  is  shaking  his  fist  at  him,  now  Squawboo 
Bowley  is  a  kicking  off  the  old  man's  dog.  Hi ! 
Hi!  Hi!"  said  Beany  in  great  excitement,  "the 
old  man  is  lacing  Squawboo  with  his  whip  and 
Squawboo's — " 

Plupy  could  stand  it  no  longer.  He  must  see 
it  notwithstanding  his  slightly  informal  costume. 
He  opened  his  chamber  door  and  listened.  He 
could  hear  nothing  of  his  family.  They  were 
probably  out  on  the  front  steps  looking  at  the 
fight.  He  bolted  for  the  front  chamber  and 
rushed  in.  Horrors!  what  did  he  see?  His 
sister  Celia,  dressed  in  her  mother's  long 
flounced  silk,  with  lace  collar  and  black  half- 
mitts  was  gracefully  presiding  at  a  tea  table, 
while  Keene,  sporting  an  immense  water-fall, 
and  garbed  in  her  aunt's  best  black  silk,  was 
handing  round  tea  and  cakes  to  Lady  Genevieve 
McAllister,  (Lucy  Watson),  Countess  Hilde- 
104 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

garde    Buckingham   (Jennie    Morrison),    and 
Princess  Cassenova  (Bessie  Tilton). 

The  effect  of  this  skinny  apparition,  clad  only 
in  a  night  shirt,  was  marvellous.  The  ladies 
recoiled  in  horror.  The  Countess  Hildegarde 
gave  a  loud  shriek,  Lady  Genevieve  covered 
her  charming  face  with  her  bejewelled  hands, 
Princess  Cassenova  laid  her  regal  head  on  the 
table  and  covered  it  with  her  arms.  But  the 
hostesses  were  of  sterner  stuff,  and  after  a  pause 
of  amazement  Keene  seized  the  pitcher  and 
Cele  an  umbrella  and  rushed  to  repel  boarders. 

They  were  too  late,  however,  for  Plupy,  who 
was  standing  in  a  sort  of  saucer-eyed  paralysis 
at  the  unexpected  vision,  let  out  a  yell  of  abject 
surprise  and  mortification  and  fled  to  his  room, 
while  the  outraged  hostesses  marched  straight 
to  their  mother's  room  to  lodge  a  complaint  to 
the  effect  that  "Harry  had  come  right  into  their 
party  without  any  clothes  on,  boo-hoo !  boo- 
hoo !  and  he  done  it  on  purpose,  boo-hoo !  boo- 
hoo  !" 

They  were  pacified  by  further  and  unpre- 
105 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

cedented  indulgence  in  seed-cookies  and  molas 
ses  and  water  (best  Hyson)  and  a  promise  of  a 
searching  investigation  of  the  affair,  whereupon 
they  returned  to  their  titled  guests,  and  their 
mother  proceeded  to  her  son's  room,  where  she 
found  that  youth  cowering  under  the  bed  clothes 
in  a  state  of  mortification  impossible  to  describe, 
which  convinced  her  that  his  uninvited  presence 
at  the  party  was  wholly  innocent. 

Indeed,  his  distress  was  so  great  that,  al 
though  by  this  time  his  clothes  were  so  thor 
oughly  dried  that  he  was  given  permission  to 
dress  and  go  out,  he  declined  utterly  and  re 
clined  gloomily  in  bed,  declaring  he  would  never 
go  out  of  his  room  again  as  long  as  he  lived. 
Nor  did  he  recover  his  cheerfulness  in  the 
slightest  degree  until  after  supper,  which  was 
brought  to  him  on  a  tray  by  a  scornful  sister, 
when  he  was  allowed  the  rare  luxury  of  reading 
in  bed,  and  plunged  so  deep  into  the  fascinating 
adventures  of  "Midshipman  Easy,"  that  he  re 
solved  to  go  to  sea  the  next  day,  and  not  spend 
the  rest  of  his  young  life  in  a  chamber,  and  he 
106 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

fell  asleep  devising  plans  to  pack  his  few  treas 
ures  in  a  handkerchief,  steal  out  at  midnight, 
cut  a  trusty  stick  and  strike  for  the  nearest 
coast-town  to  take  a  ship. 

As,  however,  he  slept  profoundly  until  morn 
ing,  his  journey  was  indefinitely  postponed  and 
his  cheerfulness  restored. 

And  as  he  blithely  split  his  kindlings  in  ad 
vance  and  filled  the  woodbox  to  the  brim,  he 
joyously  planned  making  up  for  two  days  en 
forced  abstinence  from  voluntary  baths  by  go 
ing  in  swimming  at  least  ten  times  that  day. 


109 


CHAPTER  Vll 


Plupy  enters  politics  with   the  praisworthy  intention   of 
aiding  his  father  to  obtain  a  raise  in  salary. 


i 


summer  was  passing  only  too 
rapidly.  Early  apples  were  begin 
ning  to  show  red  streaks  on  the 
side  exposed  to  the  sun.  The 
worthy  citizens  of  Exeter,  having 
become,  perforce,  very  adroit  in  dodging  green 
apples  thrown  from  a  withe,  now  entered  into 
the  potato-ball  season  in  excellent  training.  The 
bobolinks,  whose  nests  the  boys  never  could  find 
under  any  circumstances,  had  brought  up  their 
russet  colored  offspring,  had  purchased  of 
Old  Mother  Nature  new  travelling  suits  of 
brown,  neat  and  close  fitting,  and  were  filling 
the  brown,  dry,  close-mowed  fields  with  their 
plaintive  musical  call  "chink,  chink." 

The  snakes  had  shed  their  skins,  and  the  boys 
had  successfully  imitated  them,  having  succes- 
no 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

sively  shed  several  thicknesses  which  the  hot 
sun  had  burned  from  their  blistered  backs  and 
shoulders,  and  now  appeared  as  brown  as  rus 
set  leather  and  as  tough  as  wire  rope. 

True,  they  had  narrowly  escaped  death  in 
horrid  shapes  from  persistently  eating  half-rip 
ened  fruit,  and  Plupy  in  particular  had  caused 
the  good  family  doctor  to  resort  to  drastic 
measures  to  remedy  a  most  terrific  attack  of  col 
ic  following  unlimited  indulgence  in  black  cher 
ries. 

Beany  had  been  kicked  by  a  stable  horse  a<nd 
was  unable  to  do  any  work  at  home  for  several 
weeks,  and  still  limped  painfully  when  in  sight 
of  his  house,  although  his  disability  was  not 
particularly  noticeable  when  sufficiently  re 
moved  from  that  vicinity. 

Pewt  had  been  on  a  visit  to  relatives  in  Ports 
mouth,  and  the  value  of  residential  real  estate 
in  the  neighborhood  in  which  he  lived  had  ap 
preciated  perceptibly  in  his  absence. 

But  a  great  joy  had  dawned  in  Plupy's  life. 
His  father  had  bought  a  horse.  Not  in  truth  a 
in 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

very  valuable  animal,  for  she  was  a  bit  old  and 
more  than  a  bit  sore-footed  from  contracted 
hoofs.  But  Nellie  was  a  very  handsome  little 
horse,  a  dark  bay  with  black  points,  very  easy 
to  ride  and  when  warmed  up,  a  fast  trotter. 

Plupy  was  the  most  popular  boy  in  the  neigh 
borhood,  not  even  excepting  Ed  Towle,  whose 
father  had  a  stable  full  of  horses. 

Early  in  the  morning  he  was  at  the  stable, 
feeding,  rubbing,  washing,  and  polishing  his 
horse  and  driving  father  to  the  station.  Every 
noon  he  repeated  the  process  and  every  night 
he  drove  again  to  the  station  and  partook  of 
the  delirious  excitement  of  a  race  down  the 
street  with  the  horses  of  other  gentlemen  re 
turning  from  the  train. 

Between  times  he  threw  an  old  McLellan 
saddle  and  army  blanket  over  her,  which  nearly 
concealed  her  from  sight,  and  rode  her.  And  as 
he  was  by  no  means  a  stingy  youth,  his  friends 
stiffened  themselves  into  suffering  yard  sticks  in 
riding  the  little  animal.  If  she  had  not  been  a 
Canadian  and  as  tough  as  a  voyageur,  she 

112 


Beany  had  been  kicked 
by  a  stable  horse 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

would  have  died  the  first  week.  But  she  grew 
ambitious  with  good  food,  and  several  times 
had  come  home  with  Plupy  despite  his  utmost 
exertions. 

As  I  remarked  before,  Plupy's  father  was  an 
employee  of  the  Government,  and  consequently 
a  staunch  upholder  of  the  political  party  then  in 
power.  He  held  himself  always  in  readiness  to 
perform  any  service  in  reason  that  the  party  de 
manded,  and  being  a  gentleman  of  much  tact 
and  jollity,  was  a  political  henchman  of  consid 
erable  power. 

He  drew  a  very  respectable  salary  for  incon 
siderable  duties  at  the  Custom  House,  but  was 
shrewdly  working  for  a  raise,  as  he  calculated 
the  increasing  expenses  of  a  growing  family.  So 
he  was  always  extremely  affable  and  painstaking 
in  entertaining  any  prominent  politician  whose 
influence  might  be  of  assistance  to  him  in  perma 
nently  retaining  his  place,  or  in  gaining  a  new 
and  better  one. 

One  Saturday  evening  he  brought  home  a 
most  distinguished  looking  gentleman,  a  politi- 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

cian  of  some  note,  to  stay  over  Sunday,  and  hav 
ing  left  him  in  his  room,  which  had  been  hastily 
vacated  and  made  guest  chamber  for  the  occa 
sion,  the  family  was  assembled  in  the  kitchen 
and  the  law  laid  down  as  to  their  behavior,  and 
the  favorable  impression  they  were  to  make  on 
the  visitor,  who  was  represented  as  the  one 
man  in  power  who  could  procure  a  substantial 
raise  in  the  salary  of  Plupy's  father. 

He  had  no  fears  of  Plupy's  mother  and  aunt, 
for  they  were  gentlewomen,  but  he  was  natural 
ly  a  bit  uncertain  about  the  behavior  of  his  nu 
merous  brood.  However,  they  all  promised  with 
much  zeal  to  be  on  their  best  behavior,  and 
Plupy  in  particular  made  the  most  profuse 
promises,  which  he  immediately  put  in  execu 
tion  by  filling  the  wood-box  and  water-pail  and 
spending  the  half  hour  before  tea  in  cleaning 
out  the  stable,  appearing  at  the  tea  table  with 
his  face  soaped  and  scrubbed,  his  paper  collar 
turned,  and  bearing  with  him  so  terrific  a  stench 
of  the  stable  that  he  was  sent  from  the  room 
to  change  his  clothes,  which  mortified  him  ex- 
116 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

ceedingly. 

On  his  return  he  was  unfortunate  enough  to 
land  his  plate  in  his  lap,  and  commit  other  little 
slips  which  made  worse  the  unpleasant  impres 
sion  he  must  have  created. 

After  supper  he  harnessed  Nellie  and  held 
her  while  his  father  and  the  gentleman  climbed 
in  to  take  a  little  ride  around  the  town  and 
visit  a  few  of  the  faithful,  in  view  of  the  coming 
national  campaign.  In  his  agitation  over  mis 
doings  at  the  tea  table  he  reversed  the  correct 
method,  fastened  the  breeching  straps  first  and 
then  forgot  to  fasten  the  traces,  leaving  them 
coiled  up,  in  front,  and  when  his  father,  gather 
ing  up  the  reins,  nodded  jovially  to  the  smiling 
family  gathered  in  the  door  yard  to  see  them  de 
part  and  touched  Nellie  with  the  whip,  she  went 
out  of  the  shafts  like  a  shot,  dragging  the  as 
tonished  and  protesting  owner  over  the  dasher, 
and  completely  tied  herself  up  in  the  straps, 
buckles  and  general  wreckage  before  she  was 
secured. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  more  'n  a  hundred  times 
117 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

never  to  hitch  the  breeching  first,"  roared  the 
enraged  father,  shaking  Plupy  violently,  "I'm  a 
good  mind  to  skin  you  alive." 

k'You  ought  to  have  been  more  careful,"  said 
his  mother  mildly  but  sorrowfully,  as  poor 
Plupy  slunk  into  the  house. 

It  took  some  time  to  disentangle  the  snarl  of 
horse,  harness  and  buggy,  but  when  it  was  ac 
complished,  they  drove  off  again,  and  after  an 
hour's  drive  came  home  serene  and  peaceful, 
and  smoking  huge  cigars,  which  they  held  tilted 
towards  their  hats,  betokening  promising  polit 
ical  aspirations. 

The  evening  was  passed  with  music,  in  which 
the  entire  repertoire  of  the  young  ladies  was  ex 
hausted,  and  possibly  also  the  patience  of  the 
guest.  I  have  sometimes  wondered  just  what 
the  guests  at  Plupy's  really  did  think  of  the 
musical  part  of  the  entertainment  that  was  so 
freely  dispensed  there. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday  and  the  family 
arose  later  than  usual.  Plupy  was,  however, 
early  astir,  and  rubbed  down  the  horse,  washed 
118 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

the  buggy  and  swept  out  the  barn  before  his 
father  had  arisen.  After  breakfast,  which 
passed  without  incident,  the  family  prepared 
for  church.  Plupy's  father,  in  view  of  the  lim 
ited  quarters  provided  in  the  family  pew,  gra 
ciously  allowed  Plupy  to  remain  at  home,  great 
ly  to  that  youngster's  delight. 

There  was  occasionally  some  fun  in  church, 
for  Beany  occupied  the  important  post  of  blow- 
boy  for  the  organ,  and  whiled  away  the  time 
when  not  occupied  in  keeping  the  bellows  full, 
in  various  ways,  one  of  which  was  in  peeping 
from  behind  the  organ  and  making  hideous 
faces  at  Plupy,  to  the  great  scandal  of  other 
worshippers  to  whom  he  was  visible,  and  to 
Plupy's  unconcealed  delight. 

But  whenever  Plupy's  father  went  to  church, 
which  didn't  happen  very  often,  owing,  as  that 
gentleman  said,  to  the  exhaustion  under  which 
he  labored,  caused  by  the  mental  strain  of  his 
prostrating  labors  in  the  Custom  House,  Plupy 
had  to  be  on  his  best  behavior  and  did  not  dare 
to  laugh  at  anything. 

121 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Indeed,  the  last  time  he  had  attended  church 
with  his  father,  he  had  narrowly  escaped  pun 
ishment  because  he  could  not  entirely  restrain 
his  laughter,  when  old  Mr.  Blake,  who  sat  just 
in  front  of  them,  and  who  leaned  forward  to 
pick  up  his  hymn-book  which  he  had  dropped, 
hit  his  bald  head  a  most  astounding  and  audible 
thump  on  the  shelf  in  front  of  him,  which 
caused  him  to  pull  a  most  rueful  face  and  hold 
his  head  in  both  hands,  while  Plupy  nearly 
strangled  himself  with  suppressed  glee. 

He  wandered  with  deep  satisfaction  out  into 
the  yard.  It  was  a  warm  day  and  the  crickets 
and  grasshoppers  were  filing  their  saws  in  the 
grass,  the  corn  was  waving  in  the  breeze.  In 
the  barn  a  little  speckled  hen  prated  cheerfully, 
the  cooing  of  his  pigeons  on  the  eaves  sounded 
pleasantly  in  his  ears. 

The  bells  had  ceased  ringing  and  in  the  dis 
tance  the  faint  swell  of  the  organ  arose  and  the 
distant  cadence  of  a  hymn.  After  all  the 
world  was  a  pretty  good  place  to  live  in.  Let's 
see,  what  would  he  do  to-morrow?  First  he 
122 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

would  go  over  and  see  if  Potter  Gorham  would 
go  bull-frogging  with  him.  And  if  he  wouldn't 
go,  he  would  go  down  to  Fatty  Melcher's.  Fat 
ty  was  most  as  good  a  fisher  as  Potter.  Only 
Potter  knew  more  about  fish  and  birds  than  any 
fellow.  He  wished  he  had  some  of  Potter's 
books  on  birds  and  things.  He  guessed  he  would 
read  the  rest  of  "Midshipman  Easy,"  and  hav 
ing  procured  that  delightful  tale,  he  lay  on  the 
grass  and  was  only  aroused  from  oblivion  to 
everything  but  the  fascination  of  his  book,  by 
the  arrival  of  the  guest  and  the  family  from 
church. 

After  dinner  Plupy's  father  was  called  away, 
and,  again  to  Plupy's  delight,  ordered  him  to 
harness  Nellie  and  take  the  guest  to  Hampton 
Falls  to  make  a  call  on  a  friend. 

Plupy  blithely  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and 
deferentially  waiting  until  the  gentleman  ad 
justed  his  gloves,  settled  his  silk  hat  firmly  on 
his  bald  head  and  lighted  his  cigar,  he  climbed 
into  the  buggy  and  fared  him  forth  gaily. 

The  politician,  accustomed  to  travel  in  a 
125 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

rather  fast  class,  began  to  chaff  the  boy  a  little 
about  his  horse,  and  intimated  considerable  dis 
trust  of  her  ability  to  trot  fast.  Naturally,  to  a 
boy  of  Plupy's  disposition,  this  was  a  direct  in 
vitation  to  let  her  out  a  little,  which  he  did.  The 
gentleman  took  occasion  to  take  out  the  whip 
and,  to  Plupy's  great  but  silent  indignation,  to 
strike  her  with  it.  It  was  as  much  as  Plupy 
could  do  to  turn  her  into  the  yard  of  the  house 
they  were  to  visit  without  upsetting. 

During  their  stop  at  this  house  one  of  those 
sudden  showers  came  up  that  left  the  roads 
soaked  with  water  and  deep  in  mud,  and  when 
they  started  for  home,  the  little  mare,  still 
smarting  over  her  treatment,  struck  for  home 
like  a  bird,  sending  showers  of  mud  over  the 
wretched  and  indignant  guest  and  the  straining 
Plupy. 

In  vain  he  pulled,  he  could  not  stop  her.  She 
had  an  iron  mouth  and  was  bound  to  get  home 
as  soon  as  possible.  The  politician  started  to 
expostulate,  but  a  handful  of  mud  thrown  by 
her  forefoot  plastered  his  mouth,  breathing  ob- 
126 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

jurgations.  A  violent  jolt  caused  him  to  grab 
frantically  for  his  hat,  which  he  secured  just  in 
time.  The  whirling  wheels  cast  aloft  showers 
of  yellow  mud  which  sought  a  resting  place  on 
his  dignified  person.  They  whirled  around  a 
corner  on  two  wheels,  and  he  grasped  the  seat 
with  both  hands.  Another  dash  of  mud  sealed 
one  eye,  while  a  shower  of  gravel  stones  rattled 
against  his  false  teeth  and  paralyzed  his  fervid 
oratory. 

They  dashed  over  the  bridge,  up  Clifford 
street,  around  the  corner,  a  narrow  squeak. 
Plupy  was  a  skillful  driver.  Another  might  not 
have  done  it.  Into  the  yard,  Plupy  putting 
forth  all  the  strength  of  his  half  paralyzed, 
skinny  arms  sawing  violently.  The  little  mare 
dashed  for  the  barn  door,  luckily  it  was  shut. 
She  stopped.  The  passengers  kept  right  on. 
Both  went  over  the  dasher  flying.  Plupy  went 
farthest  although  braced  for  the  shock.  The 
politician  found  himself  astride  the  animal's 
rump,  both  arms  embracing  her.  Nellie  did  not 
kick.  She  was  a  kind  horse,  and  had  reached 
127 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

home.    The  politician  dismounted  painfully. 

He  was  speechless  with  indignation.  Plupy's 
mother  came  out.  So  did  his  aunt.  So  did  his 
brothers  and  sisters.  The  latter  retired  to  hide 
their  mirth,  taking  with  them  the  loudly  won 
dering  little  ones.  The  former  persuaded  the 
politician  to  enter  the  house  and  offered  him 
warm  water,  soap  and  towels.  He  fumed  and 
said  impolite  things. 

Plupy's  mother  was  a  wise  woman.  So  was 
his  aunt.  They  said  nothing.  The  politician 
finally  consented  to  retire  to  his  room.  He  could 
not  have  done  otherwise.  He  was  a  sight.  He 
poked  his  clothes  outside  his  room.  They  were 
taken  and  scraped,  dried  and  dusted,  while 
Plupy  told  his  story. 

At  about  six  o'clock  his  father  returned,  and 
was  astonished  beyond  measure  to  see  his  wife 
breaking  the  Sabbath  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  by  bending  over  the  ironing-board  smooth 
ing  out  the  wrinkles  in  a  long-tailed  black  broad 
cloth  coat,  while  Aunt  Sarah  with  a  rabbit's 
foot  was  trying  to  restore  the  gloss  to  a  dam- 
128 


"5 

\> 

•«^i 

•••^ 

o 

I* 


"8 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

aged  silk  hat. 

The  worthy  gentleman  was  much  cast  down 
when  he  learned  of  the  excitement  attending  the 
John  Gilpin-like  ride  of  his  son  and  guest,  and 
he  was  disposed  to  use  harsh  language  before 
hearing  the  whole  story,  but  as  he  listened  his 
indignation  sought  a  new  channel,  and  only  the 
entreaties  of  his  wife  prevented  him  from  de 
manding  an  explanation  of  his  guest.  So  he 
swallowed  his  wrath  and  when  his  guest  reap 
peared  greeted  him  with  cordiality.  But  the 
evening  meal  was  eaten  under  some  constraint, 
and  at  its  close  the  guest  retired  to  his  room, 
saying  he  was  greatly  fatigued  by  the  unusual 
attentions  he  had  received. 

The  next  morning,  after  a  tempting  break 
fast,  Plupy's  father  and  the  guest  rode  to  the 
depot  in  a  hack,  as  it  was  thought  that  the  ap 
pearance  of  the  family  conveyance  might  awak 
en  painful  associations  in  the  mind  of  the  great 
man.  Plupy's  father  exerted  himself  to  be  af 
fable  and  courteous  to  his  guest,  but  that  gentle 
man  appeared  to  be  wrapped  in  an  impenetrable 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

cloud  of  gloom. 

As  the  train  pulled  in  he  turned  to  his  host 
and  said  with  a  disagreeable  sneer,  "Shute,  if 
that  infernal  boy  of  yours  was  mine,  I'd  drown 
him." 

Now  Plupy's  father,  however  strongly  he 
might  at  times  express  himself  about  his  son's 
misdeeds,  never  allowed  anyone  else  to  do  the 
same,  and  would  fight  at  the  drop  of  the  hat 
when  any  person  criticised  any  member  of  his 
family,  and  he  came  to  the  scratch  with  a 
promptness  quite  unexpected  by  his  guest. 

"And  if  he  didn't  amount  to  more  than  you 
have,  you  infernal  blockhead,  I'd  hang  him  be 
fore  night!"  he  replied  fiercely. 

uDo  you  know  who  you  are  talking  to?"  de 
manded  the  great  man,  purple  with  rage. 

"A  cheap  bar-room  politician"  roared  the 
elder  Shute,  "and  for  two  cents,  sir,"  he  shouted 
snapping  his  fingers  under  the  great  man's  nose, 
who  backed  precipitately  away,  "I  would  smash 
that  old  plug  of  yours  over  your  empty  old 
head!" 

132 


"For  two  cents"  roared  the 
Elder  Shute,  "I  would  smash 
that  old  plug  of  yours" 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

There  was  no  time  to  say  more,  the  train  was 
getting  under  way,  and  they  rushed  for  different 
compartments. 

That  night  when  Plupy's  father  returned  he 
delighted  his  son  by  the  present  of  a  twenty-five 
cent  scrip. 

His  salary  had  not  been  raised,  but  the  fam 
ily  honor  had  been  vindicated. 


135 


CHAPTER  VIII 


How  Plupy,  Beany,  Pewt,  Fatty,  Tomtit,  Whack,  Bug, 
Puzzy,  Skinny,  Billy,  Parson,  Scotty,  and  others  became 
nigger  minstrels. 


AND  now  misfortune,  which  appeared 
to  have  visited    our    good    friend 
Plupy,  rather  more  frequently  than 
that  good    gentleman    could    have 
wished,  wisely  considering  its  wel 
come  worn  out,  went  on  its  way  to  make  life 
miserable  for  some  other  boys,  and  Plupy  for  a 
time,  at  least,  enjoyed  a  comparative  immunity 
from  sorrow. 

This  was  such  an  unusual  thing  for  him  that 
he  did  not  quite  know  just  how  to  account  for 
it.  Not  to  be  scolded  for  forgetting  to  split  the 
kindlings  or  fill  the  wood-box  or  waterpail;  not 
to  be  reproved  by  his  scornfully  superior  sisters 
for  occasionally  appearing  at  the  table  with 
grimy  hands  or  face  or  uncombed  hair,  or  for 
eating  some  particularly  savory  or  evasive  mor- 

136 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

sel  with  his  knife,  because  it  did  not  adapt  itself 
readily  to  the  tines  of  his  fork;  not  to  be  made 
to  weed  the  gravel  walk  when  he  wanted  to  go 
"in  swimming;"  to  fetch  water  from  the  river 
for  the  Monday's  wash  when  he  had  planned  a 
little  fishing  excursion;  to  run  up  to  old  Mrs. 
Elliott's  for  two  cents  worth  of  yeast  when  he 
had  obtained  permission  to  ride  on  one  of  Ma 
jor  Blake's  hacks;  all  these  unusual  exemptions 
delighted  him  beyond  measure. 

He  had  also  added  to  his  cornet  fund  the 
twenty-five  cents  presented  him  by  his  father, 
which  made  good  the  recent  depletion  of  that 
fund  caused  by  his  breaking  the  window  in  the 
blacksmith's  shop.  In  short,  the  world  moved 
prosperously  for  him,  and  had  it  not  been  that 
the  long  vacation  was  drawing  to  a  close,  he 
would  have  been  almost  too  happy  to  contain 
himself. 

True,  he  sometimes  wondered  how  long  this 
blissful  state  of  things  would  continue,  and  oc 
casionally  was  conscious  of  a  vague  lack  in  his 
well-being,  due  to  his  unusual  exemption  from 

139 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

verbal  reproach,  bodily  castigation,  or  banish 
ment  to  his  room,  just  as  one  misses  salt  or  pep 
per  in  a  dish  benefited  by  a  moderate  admixture 
of  these  articles. 

I  can  only  explain  this  unexampled  period  of 
Plupy's  life  by  the  supposition  that  it  was  owing 
in  a  great  measure  to  a  period  of  good  behavior 
on  the  part  of  that  young  man,  a  period  which 
occasionally  comes  in  the  life  of  every  bad,  or 
moderately  sinful  youth,  and  which  seems  to 
paint  in  blacker  colors  the  ordinary  course  of 
life  of  that  individual. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  cause,  it  is  a 
fact  that  once,  and  from  a  very  intimate  ac 
quaintance  with  Plupy  I  can  say  once  only,  in 
his  life  he  went  a  full  week  without  some  sort 
of  punishment  being  meted  out  to  him  for  mis 
demeanors  of  which  he  was  guilty. 

However,  this  state  of  things  could  not  last 
very  long,  as  being  good  was  somewhat  foreign 
to  his  nature.  Then  again,  Pewt  had  returned 
from  his  visit  to  Portsmouth,  Beany  had  entire 
ly  recovered  from  his  accident,  and  Fatty  Gil- 
140 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

man  was  enlisting  the  services  of  his  friends  in 
preparations  for  a  grand  Nigger  Minstrel  Show 
in  his  barn,  modelled  after  Morris  Brothers' 
Minstrels  and  Washburn's  Grand  Sensation, 
the  two  most  popular  travelling  pageants  of 
those  days. 

Of  course,  every  boy,  who  had  opportunity 
to  take  part  in  any  sort  of  a  show  in  another 
boy's  barn,  would  be  willing  to  risk  life,  liberty 
and  the  pursuit  of  happiness  to  attain  the  posi 
tion  of  End  Man,  Interlocutor,  Premiere  Dan- 
seuse  or  Trapeze  Artist.  Even  the  less  import 
ant  positions  of  member  of  the  chorus,  door-ten 
der  and  taker-of-tickets  were  prizes  that  excited 
the  warmest  competition.  Anything  to  be  a 
part  of  the  show.  Plupy  was  at  once  reduced  to 
his  usual  condition  of  plain  everyday  boy,  and 
his  goodness  fell  from  him  as  mist  fades  in  sun 
shine.  He  hurried  through  his  tasks  in  the 
morning,  at  noon,  and  at  night,  at  least  before 
his  father  returned  from  Boston.  He  was  a 
prudent  youth  and  generally  made  amends  for 
his  neglect  during  the  day,  by  filling  the  wood- 
141 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

box  to  overflowing  just  before  the  hack  drew  up 
to  the  door,  and  so  arranged  his  affairs  that 
when  his  father  called  for  him  he  appeared 
cheerfully,  with  one  arm  extended  to  balance  his 
attenuated  frame  bending  under  the  weight  of  a 
pail  of  water,  with  which  he  plentifully  be- 
slopped  his  trousers  and  shoes. 

I  hope  the  reader  will  forgive  our  friend  for 
these  hypocrisies.  We  are  all  too  apt  to  do 
such  in  our  mature  years,  to  criticise  him  too 
severely.  Remember  what  an  absorbing  pas 
time  preparation  for  a  nigger  minstrel  show  is 
for  a  boy  of  thirteen,  especially  when  the  varied 
attractions  include  a  "Grand  Street  Parade  with 
Monster  Brass  Band,  and  the  Entire  Strength 
of  the  Company." 

We  may  be  very  sure  that  his  mother  and 
aunt  saw  only  too  clearly  through  the  young 
scamp's  pretentions,  and  in  their  abundant  good 
nature  and  affection  for  him,  rather  sympa 
thized  with  him,  and  kept  many  things  from  the 
ears  of  his  father,  that  could  have  been  told 
that  gentleman  with  perfect  propriety. 
142 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

The  first  meeting  for  the  arrangement  of  the 
details  was  held  behind  Fatty  Oilman's  barn, 
the  interesting  nature  of  the  proceeding  being 
intensified  by  a  half  bushel  of  "Early  Astra- 
chan"  apples  furnished  by  the  Chadwick  boys. 
Fatty  presided  with  great  dignity  astride  a 
wooden  bench-horse  which  broke  under  his 
weight  and  let  him  down  with  a  violent  thump 
on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  temporarily  de 
layed  proceedings. 

When  he  recovered  he  proceeded  to  harangue 
the  assemblage  with  great  vigor  and  conciseness 
somewhat  as  follows  "Fellers,  me  'n  Tomtit  'n 
Parson  has  been  thinking  of  gettin'  up  a  nigger 
show,  a  real  bully  one,  so  't  all  the  fellers  which 
can  do  ennything  better  'n  nobody  else  has  got 
to  do  it.  I'm  goin'  to  be  interlocutioner,  'n 
Billy—" 

"Huh,  Old  Fatty,"  said  Bug  Chadwick,  dis 
gustedly,  "course  you  got  the  best  part,  cause 
it's  your  barn." 

"Well,  what  'f  I  have?"  demanded  the  fat 
youth  with  asperity,  "you  ain't  big  enough  to  be 

145 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

in  the  center,  an'  I've  got  you  down  for  a  prize 
fight,"  he  added  convincingly,  whereat  Bug 
smiled  forgivingly. 

"Gosh,  goin'  to  have  a  prize  fight?"  de 
manded  Puzzy,  delightedly,  "I'm  the  feller  to 
fight  Bug,"  leering  in  a  way  that  promised  warm 
times  for  his  brother,  who  rose  and  sparred  in 
pantomine  in  an  immensely  scientific  way. 

"'N  Billy  Swett  'n  Skinny  Bruce  is  end  men, 
cause  Billy  has  got  a  tamberine  and  Skinny  has 
got  the  best  bone  clappers  in  town.  And  he 
can  play  'm  too,"  he  added  with  emphasis. 
"Whack's  going  to  sing  a  song,  'Shoo  Fly  Don't 
Bodder  Me!'" 

"Aw,  Whack  can't  sing  any  more  'n  a  cat,  all 
he  does  is  jest  yawp,"  jeered  Puz  and  Bug, 
whereupon  the  dignified  Whack  became  indig 
nant  and  intimated  an  ability  and  willingness  to 
knock  somebody's  nose  off,  and  further  speci 
fied  the  exact  time  in  which  the  same  could  be 
done,  which  he  calculated  to  be  "in  about  two 
minutes." 

"Oh,  shet  up  fellers,  we'll  never  get  doin' 
146 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

anything  if  we  keep  a  jawin'.  Whack's  goin'  t' 
sing,  'n  that's  all  there  is  'bout  it,  else  they  won't 
be  no  show." 

"I'll  be  on  the  flying  trapeze,"  said  Pewt. 

"I  can  skin  the  cat  on  the  horizontal  bar," 
shrieked  Beany. 

"Huh,  that  ain't  nothin',  I  can  do  the  muscle 
grind,"  said  Skinny  Bruce,  "and  I  can  walk  on 
my  hands." 

"I  can  stand  on  my  head  the  longest  and  eat 
juju  pastes,"  bellowed  Beany,  not  to  be  outdone 
by  his  compatriots. 

"Tel  yer  what,"  chirped  in  Plupy,  the  musi 
cal,  struck  with  a  bright  idea,  "less  have  a  regu 
lar  street  parade.  I'll  play  cornet  in  the  band. 
I  got  a  tin  tunnel." 

"Me  too,"  said  Pewt. 

"I  got  a  drum,"  said  Tomtit. 

"Fatty  Walker  will  let  me  have  his  bass 
drum,  p'raps,"  said  Fatty,  "he  is  striping  some 
carriages  for  mother,  I'll  get  her  to  ask  him." 

"Bully,"  said  all  in  chorus. 

"What  we  goin'  to  sing  for  choruses?"  in- 

147 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

quired  Plupy. 

"  'Rally  Round  the  Flag;'  'n  'Hurrah  for 
Old  New  England,'  'n  tunes  like  them,"  said 
Fatty. 

"Who's  got  some  black  cork?"  inquired 
Whack. 

"Charcoal  is  jest  as  good  and  you  don't  have 
to  burn  it.  We  got  lots  of  charcoal  in  the  cel 
lar,"  said  Fatty. 

"I  druther  have  black  cork,"  demurred  Billy 
Swett,  "you  can  get  a  more  niggery  black." 

"They  ain't  nothin'  much  blacker  'n  charcoal, 
if  you  put  on  enough." 

"Which  gets  off  the  easiest?"  queried  Parson, 
who  was  rather  more  particular  about  his  per 
sonal  appearance. 

"Neither,"  said  Pewt.  "You  can  scrub  most 
of  it  off  your  cheeks  and  forehead,  but  you  can't 
get  it  out  of  your  ears  till  most  winter.  Most 
all  comes  off  your  neck  in  two  weeks  if  you  use 
enough  soft  soap." 

So  it  was  voted  to  use  charcoal  instead  of 
burnt  cork,  and  the  details  of  a  most  astonishing 
148 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

show  were  outlined  amid  much  confusion  of 
tongue  and  ideas,  but  in  great  harmony.  It 
was  further  voted  to  invite  Scotty  Brigham, 
Tady  Finton  and  Jim  Early,  as  these  three 
youths  were  towers  of  strength  in  case  of  trou 
ble  on  the  line  of  march  with  other  town  boys 
not  fortunate  enough  to  belong  to  the  organiza 
tion,  and  besides  Scotty  could  sing  like  a  sky 
lark  and  play  a  real  bugle,  and  Jim  Early  could 
turn  a  front  somersault  every  time  and  a  back 
one  once  in  a  while  without  landing  on  his  head. 

The  greater  part  of  the  next  day  was  taken 
up  in  preparing  the  stage,  which  was  set  up  in 
one  end  of  the  broad  aisle  between  the  hay  bays 
and  the  tie-ups.  As  many  wooden  horses  as  the 
boys  could  get  were  covered  with  boards  taken 
from  a  dismantled  hen  house  and  were  secured 
by  nails  to  cross  pieces,  and  a  good-sized  stage 
was  made. 

The  curtain  was  an  old  carpet  hung  from  a 

clothesline  stretched  across  the  uprights,  and  a 

sail  cloth  stretched  in  front  of  one  of  the  bays 

made  a  most  excellent  dressing  or  green  room 

149 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

for  the  performers.  The  erection  of  the  stage 
was  not  accomplished  without  serious  mishaps. 
Plupy  jammed  off  the  greater  part  of  a  thumb 
nail  by  having  a  board  nailed  down  while  one  of 
his  thumbs  was  on  the  under  side  of  it;  and 
Beany,  while  striking  a  mighty  blow  with  a 
loose-headed  hammer,  nearly  massacred  Fatty, 
who  received  the  hammer  head  full  in  his  pro 
tuberant  stomach,  as  it  shot  away  from  the 
handle. 

But  at  last  it  was  finished  and  several  days 
were  taken  up  with  rehearsals,  both  of  band  and 
stage  performers. 

Even  at  home  faithful  performers  rehearsed 
until  their  parents'  lives  were  a  burden  to  them. 
Whack  committed  and  recommitted  the  lines  of 
his  song  to  memory  and  droned  horridly  at  the 
tune,  while  Bug  and  Puzzy  fought  so  desperate 
ly  and  continuously  in  preparation  for  their  act 
that  their  mother  was  forced  to  keep  them  in 
separate  rooms,  when  at  home. 

The  day  of  the  show  arrived  and  Fatty's 
yard  in  front  of  the  barn  was  filled  with  a  motley 
150 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

throng  of  boys  and  girls  awaiting  the. .perform 
ers,  who  were  preparing  for  the  grand  parade. 


CHAPTER  IX 


The  "Fall  of  Babylon",  due  to  Fatty's  performance  and 
the  presence  of  uninvited  guests. 


SUDDENLY,     the     small     door     was 
opened   and    the   performers     came 
forth,  a  set  of  jet-black,  coal-black, 
raven-black  little  gamins,  gorgeously 
apparelled.      The    band    wore     red 
stripes   on  their    yellow    linen    trousers,    red 
worsted  epaulettes  on  their  shoulders,  gold  pa 
per  stripes  on  the  breasts  of  their  jackets  and 
enormous  paper  shakos  of  red  and  blue. 

The  procession  is  formed.  It  starts.  Fatty 
leads  off  fairly  blazing  with  gold  paper.  After 
him  comes  the  band,  Plupy  shrieking  awfully 
through  his  tin  tunnel;  Parson,  Bug  and  Pewt 
shrillingly  piping  through  wooden  whistles; 
Scotty  Brigham  blowing  mellow  bugle  calls; 
Billy  Swett  shaking  his  tambourine ;  Tomtit  rat 
tling  his  side  drum,  while  Tady  Finton  and  Jim 

155 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Early  vie  with  one  another  in  administering 
sounding  welts  on  the  bass  drum  and  clanging 
blows  upon  two  tin  pot  covers,  which  did  duty  as 
cymbals. 

Behind  the  band  comes  the  rest  of  the  com 
pany,  marching  in  open  order,  bearing  canes, 
clad  in  stove  pipe  hats  of  various  styles  and 
shapes,  which  rest  mainly  on  their  ears  and 
shoulders.  They  are  followed  by  a  crowd  of 
boys  and  girls. 

The  line  of  march  leads  down  Front  street 
to  the  Square,  where  they  are  to  countermarch 
and  return  to  their  hall.  It  is  at  the  Square 
that  the  sound  judgment  of  the  company  in  in 
viting  Tady,  Jim  and  Scotty  was  shown  as  the 
procession  is  halted  while  Scotty  administers 
a  sound  thrashing  to  Squawboo  Bowley,  who 
with  others  disputes  the  right  of  way,  and  seeks 
to  break  up  the  procession.  The  proceedings 
are  further  enlivened  by  a  most  interesting  set- 
to  between  Tady  and  Hiram  Mingo,  a  real  col 
ored  boy,  and  the  flight  of  the  latter,  who  is 
pursued  by  Tady  clear  to  "Nigger  Hill." 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

When  these  little  preliminaries  have  been  ad 
justed,  the  procession  is  re-formed  and  with 
joyous  music  returns  to  the  hall,  where  the 
public  are  admitted  for  the  inconsiderable  sum 
of  one  cent  each,  and  rapidly  fill  the  seats. 
The  currency  they  offer  would,  perhaps,  not 
pass  the  critical  eyes  of  a  bank  cashier;  but 
anything  bearing  outward  similitude  to  a  cent 
is  accepted  by  the  door-keeper,  our  friend  Plupy, 
who  is  certainly  not  a  financier  whatever  else 
he  may  be. 

And  now,  in  response  to  the  stamping,  clap 
ping  and  cat-calls  of  an  impatient  audience  the 
curtain  goes  up  and  displays  to  the  dazzled  eyes 
the  circle  of  performers;  Fatty  in  the  middle, 
dignified  and  protuberant;  Skinny  and  Billy 
Swett  with  arms  raised  and  leaning  outwards, 
the  others  attentive  and  ready.  Fatty  rises;  he 
speaks:  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  overture,  'Lit 
tle  Maggie  May'."  The  instruments  shriek  and 
clash  and  blare,  the  chorus  roar  at  the  top  of 
their  voices,  Skinny's  hands  are  in  such  rapid 
motion  that  they  are  a  black  mist.  Billy  Swett 

157 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

raps  the  tambourine  on  his  head,  knee,  elbow, 
hand,  and  foot;  the  audience  shriek  with  laugh 
ter;  the  overture  closes  with  a  crescendo  of 
sound.  The  applause  is  terrific. 

Again  Fatty  rises  and  proclaims,  "Song, 
'Shoo  Fly,  Doan  Bodder  Me,'  by  Brudder  Sam- 
well  Possum,"  and  Whacker  stalks  forth  and 
essays  to  render  the  little,  madrigal  once  so  pop 
ular.  His  intonation  is  hideous,  but  gratifying 
to  the  audience,  who  manifest  their  joy  by  loud 
yells  of  applause. 

Next  Fatty  announces,  "Clog  dance  by  me," 
greatly  to  the  surprise  of  all,  both  audience  and 
performers,  who  did  not  know  that  Fatty  had 
been  secretly  practising  grotesque  steps  for  a 
week  past. 

He  comes  forward,  strikes  a  posture  and 
then  breaks  into  a  grotesque  dance;  he  stamps 
his  feet  violently  on  the  stage ;  kicks,  jumps,  and 
whirls  around,  leaps  into  the  air  and  comes 
down  like  an  elephant;  the  audience  is  wild  with 
delight;  he  does  it  again;  there  is  a  crash  of  rot 
ten  boards  and  Fatty  disappears  to  his  armpits, 

158 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

where  he  sticks,  struggles,  and  bellows  for  as 
sistance. 

The  performers  rush  to  his  aid ;  the  audience 
rise  en  masse,  are  waved  back  and  the  curtain 
goes  down.  Behind  the  curtain  there  is  a  sound 
of  shrill  and  excited  orders.  uLook  out,  fellers, 
the  whole  thing  will  go  down.  Some  of  you 
fellers  get  under  the  stage  and  push.  Who  yer 
steppin'  on?  Now  then  are  ye  all  ready?  Yes, 
now  all  together,"  loud  grunting,  sk-r-r-rip, 
"Hold  on  fellers,  I'm  caught  on  a  nail,  don't  ye 
know  nothin' ! — pull  out  the  nail — no  that  ain't 
the  one — the  big  one,  hurry  up,  can't  yer,  we 
can't  hold  him  all  night,  now  then,"  more 
grunting,  "all  right." 

Then  was  heard  Fatty's  voice  lamenting, 
"Jest  look  at  them  britches,  most  ripped  off  me. 
'F  I  go  into  th'  house  for  another  pair  mother 
won't  let  me  come  out  again." 

"Less  pin  it  up,  got  any  pins?"  suggested  a 
voice. 

"I  got  some,  'n  I,  me  to,"  chimed  in  others. 
Silence  for  a  moment  broken  by  an  agonized 
161 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

wail  from  Fatty. 

uOw,  Ow,  Ouch!  you'rs  jabbing  that  pin  into 
me  most  a  foot.  Whatcher  think  I  am,  a  pin 
cushion?" 

Prolonged  giggles,  "You  look  like  one,"  an 
swered  a  voice. 

Irate  language  from  Fatty. 

Then  calls  for  boards  and  nails,  the  sound  of 
rending  wood,  pounding  hammers,  and  com 
plaining  saws,  broken  occasionally  by  a  smoth 
ered  yelp  of  shrill  protest  as  some  unfortunate 
performer  pounded  or  sawed  some  part  of  his 
person,  or  got  in  the  way  of  vigorously  handled 
lumber. 

Then  cries  of  "all  right,"  silence  for  the  im 
pressive  arrival  of  the  orchestra  from  the  flies, 
and  their  arrangement  before  the  curtain,  a 
crash  of  raucous  music  and  the  curtain  slowly 
rolled  up  part  way,  and  then  stuck.  Shrill  or 
ders  of  "Whatcher  doin',  Plupy,  why  doncher 
pull?"  were  heard  above  the  din  of  music,  and 
the  curtain  went  up  rather  unsteadily,  disclosing 
a  trapeze  and  horizontal  bar. 
162 


Skinny  Bruce  springs  for  the 
trapeze  and  misses  it 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Enter  Skinny  Bruce,  walking  on  his  hands. 
He  rights  himself,  springs  for  the  trapeze, 
misses  it;  springs  again,  catches  it  by  the  tip  of 
the  fingers  of  one  hand,  which  hold  just  long 
enough  to  cast  him  off  his  balance  and  he  falls 
on  his  back  with  a  prodigious  slam  and  a  cloud 
of  dust.  He  rises,  calls  for  a  box,  which  is 
brought  by  Beany,  and  he  climbs  from  it  to  the 
bar. 

Skinny  swings  his  legs  violently  and  finally 
casts  one  over  the  bar.  More  violent  contor 
tions  and  he  straddles  it,  and  pulls  himself,  aid 
ed  mainly  by  his  bulging  eyes  and  facial  contor 
tions,  on  the  bar,  from  which  he  complacently 
views  the  audience. 

Then  he  throws  himself  from  the  bar  and 
hangs  by  his  bent  knees  and  makes  horrid  faces 
at  the  delighted  audience,  with  his  countenance 
upside  down.  Then  he  climbs  up  himself  until 
he  can  grasp  the  bar,  when  he  gyrates  violently 
until  he  rights  himself.  Then  he  drops  to  the 
stage,  gracefully  waves  his  hand  and  retires 
swollen  with  pride  at  the  plaudits  of  the  au- 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

dience,  who  voice  the  universal  sentiment  that 
"Skinny  done  well." 

Next  Beany  appears,  grinning  with  delight, 
and  stands  on  his  head  and  assays  to  eat  some 
jujube  paste  while  in  that  position.  His  first 
inversion  is  successful,  but  as  the  back  of  his 
head  is  towards  the  orchestra  chairs  and  the 
family  circle,  his  mouth  is  concealed  from  the 
audience,  who  loudly  clamor  for  him  to  face 
around  so  they  can  see  him.  This  rather  hand 
icaps  Beany,  who  has  been  standing  on  his 
head  for  a  full  minute  and  his  plump  counte 
nance  is  surcharged  with  blood  until  he  looks 
but  for  the  black  cork,  like  a  ripe  strawberry. 

Again  he  elevates  himself  and  begins  to  chew 
violently.  His  face  swells  like  a  balloon,  he 
vainly  tries  to  swallow,  chokes,  his  eyes  roll 
he  gurgles  and  falls  over  and  lies  prone  and  in 
ert. 

The  audience  remains  spell-bound,  fearing 
that  Beany  has  indeed  passed  peacefully  from 
the  world  of  sorrow.  But  their  fears  are  un 
founded.  Gradually,  the  swelling  diminishes, 
166 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

his  eyes  regain  their  pupils,  and  he  rises  and 
opens  his  mouth  cavernously  to  show  that  the 
choice  morsel  has  departed  in  the  usual  direc 
tion. 

Then  indeed  the  applause  becomes  terrific, 
both  at  his  skill  as  well  as  his  seemingly  marvel 
ous  escape  from  death,  and  he  is  hailed  as  the 
"Human  Boa  Constricter"  by  his  admiring 
friends. 

Next  a  square  is  roped  off  with  twine  and  in 
a  trice  appear  Bug  and  Puzzy,  with  jackets 
off,  braces  around  their  waist,  and  huge  boxing 
gloves  on  their  "Mawleys."  Skinny  Bruce  acts 
for  Bug,  Billy  Swett  for  Puzzy,  while  Fatty 
the  omnipresent  acts  as  referee  and  time  keeper. 

Time  is  called  and  the  warriors  spring  for 
each  other  as  if  actuated  by  powerful  springs. 
Their  arms  swing  like  windmills,  puffy,  punky 
blows  fall  like  pillows  in  a  pillow  fight.  They 
clinch  and  are  separated  by  the  referee.  Again 
they  go  at  it  like  insane  jumping  jacks.  The 
audience  rises  to  its  feet  as  a  man  and  cheers. 
"Time"  called  Fatty,  and  the  first  round  closes. 
167 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

While  the  boxers  are  being  fanned  and 
rubbed  the  betting  is  very  brisk,  and  the  next 
round  begins  in  a  very  scientific  manner,  both 
boxers  dodging  all  over  the  stage.  Finally  Puz- 
zy  rushes,  but  is  led  a  dance  by  Bug,  who  lands 
a  deft  blow  on  Puzzy's  forehead  that  is  ac 
knowledged  by  those  of  the  audience  skilled  in 
the  art  as  a  "paister."  Puzzy's  eyes  light  up 
with  a  warlike  gleam.  A  second  later  Bug  skips 
forward  and  meets  a  wild  lunge  of  Puzzy's  that 
catches  him  off  his  balance  and  sends  him  spin 
ning  into  the  orchestra,  upsetting  several  musi 
cians  and  crushing  Plupy's  tin  tunnel  flat. 

Bug  is  back  in  the  ring  like  a  cork,  tears  off 
his  gloves  and  squares  off  with  his  hard  little 
fists.  Puzzy  divests  himself  of  his  pillows  and 
spars  for  an  opening.  The  crowd  arises  again 
in  breathless  interest,  but  are  plainly  disgusted 
when  Fatty  promptly  stops  the  bout  and  dis 
qualifies  both  men  for  "Vilating  the  rules." 

"All  bets  is  off,"  said  the  referee,  and  the 
sporting  men  look  sulky. 

Next  Jim  Early  comes  forward  and  turned 
168 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

his  somersaults  with  great  success,  but  fails  ut 
terly  in  the  back  ones,  except  that  he  succeeds  in 
striking  his  head  with  fearful  violence  on  the 
stage,  which  would  infallibly  have  killed  or  dis 
abled  for  life  any  other  boy,  but  which  only  in 
duces  in  him  a  temporary  confusion  of  ideas. 

Now  the  delays  inseparable  to  an  amateur 
performance  and  the  unexpected  breakdown  of 
the  stage  had  prolonged  the  entertainment  to 
the  milking  hour,  and  a  dozen  or  more  cows,  be 
longing  to  the  fine  herd  owned  by  Fatty's  moth 
er,  at  this  juncture  return  to  the  barn  led  by  old 
"Speckled  Face."  Finding  the  side  door  of  the 
barn  closed  they  rush  round  to  the  big  door, 
which  is  open.  Their  calves  are  awaiting  them, 
also  their  grain  ,  and  for  both  reasons  they  are 
in  a  hurry.  But  they  stop  in  amazement  as  they 
behold  the  throng  in  the  barn.  Even  Speckled 
Face,  the  intrepid,  pauses  in  doubt,  but  the 
bla-a-t  of  her  hungry  calf  decides  her.  The 
entrance  to  the  tie-up  is  half  way  up  the  barn. 
She  shakes  her  head  and  advances  threaten 
ingly.  Others  follow,  urged  by  the  impatient 
169 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

horns  of  the  hindmost  and  the  loud  shouts  of 
"Haw!  Hi  thar!  W'heish!"  of  sturdy  Pat  Gil- 
roy,  who  was  unaware  of  what  was  transpiring 
in  the  barn. 

At  once  confusion  reigns,  the  girls  shriek 
and  rush  for  the  stage,  the  bays  and  other  hid 
ing  places.  One  young  lady  climbs  so  high  on 
a  ladder  that  she  does  not  dare  to  come  down 
until  she  is  helped  down  by  the  assistance  of  the 
entire  crowd.  The  boys  also  recoil  from  the 
avalanche  of  horns  and  hoofs.  The  over 
weighted  stage  rocks  and  reels,  a  bending  crack 
le  becomes  a  thunderous  crash  as  the  stage 
gives  way,  precipitating  actors,  artists,  supes, 
orchestra,  band  and  audience  in  one  dusty  tan 
gled  heap. 

And  when  the  amazed  Pat  Gilroy  pauses 
open-mouthed  on  the  threshold,  the  throng  are 
painfully  disentangling  themselves,  while  in  the 
tie-up  the  mild-eyed  cows  are  licking  their  calves 
affectionately,  while  far  aloft,  whimpering  with 
fright,  a  pallid  young  lady  clings  to  the  rounds 
of  a  ladder. 

170 


CHAPTER  X 


The  strong  arm  of  the  law  reaches  for  Plupy's  collar  and 
gets  a  strangle  hold. 


AND  now  indeed  I  grieve  to  say  that 
Plupy  began  to  go  to  the  bad  very 
rapidly.     It    would    be    unjust    to 
Pewt  to  say  that  it  was  due  to  his 
return  from  his  vacation,  because 
if  I  recollect  rightly,  Pewt's  mother  always  con 
tended,  and  perhaps  with  much  truth,  that  her 
son  would  have  been  an  excellent  boy,  had  it 
not  been  for  that  Shute  boy,  who  led  him  into 
devious  ways. 

Nor  would  it  be  fair  to  Beany  to  attribute 
Plupy's  moral  lapses  to  his  recovery  from  his 
lameness,  because  the  fact  that  Plupy  never 
dared  to  visit  Beany's  premises  except  in  the  ab 
sence  of  Beany's  father,  was  some  evidence  that 
his  moral  influence  was  not  conducive  to  Beany's 
good  standing  in  the  community. 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Nor  would  it  be  entirely  correct  to  heap  all 
the  blame  on  poor  Plupy,  for  he  was  not,  I  as 
sure  you,  entirely  to  blame.  It  would  perhaps 
be  better  to  say  it  was  due  to  the  fact  that  the 
three  lived  in  the  same  neighborhood,  and  spent 
a  good  deal  of  time  in  each  other's  society.  I 
am  willing  to  acknowledge  that  Plupy  was  more 
to  blame  than  the  rest,  for  I  am  his  friend  and 
can  speak  for  him.  But  the  others  were  not 
without  fault. 

During  the  short  evenings  of  summer  the 
boys  had  but  little  time  to  play  after  dark.  Bed 
time  came  soon  after  the  lamps  were  lighted. 
But  as  fall  approached,  the  evenings  became 
longer,  the  boys  began  to  play  after  dark,  and 
the  opportunity  of  doing,  under  the  cover  of 
darkness,  forbidden  things,  led  them  to  decided 
wrong-doing. 

It  was  unquestionably  funny  when  upon  the 
sharp  peal  of  a  door  bell,  an  irate  and  bald- 
headed  man  appeared  with  a  lamp  and  swore 
violently  when  he  heard  the  clatter  of  the  boys' 
feet  as  they  ran  off.  It  was  not  so  funny  when 
174 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

they  were  occasionally  caught  and  soundly 
thrashed,  and  which  served  them  right.  Nor 
was  it  at  all  funny  when  some  poor  tired  wo 
man,  who  had  been  all  day  on  her  feet,  came  to 
the  door  and  peered  about  wondering  who 
would  have  the  heart  to  compel  her  to  take 
another  step. 

To  do  the  boys  justice,  they  seldom  knowing 
ly  bothered  the  women,  but  generally  picked  out 
the  most  irascible  old  man  in  the  neighborhood 
just  for  the  purpose  of  hearing  him  curse  and 
"ramp  round"  as  Plupy  termed  it. 

Then  they  began  to  "hook  apples",  as  it  was 
then  called,  and  is  now  I  believe.  What  their 
object  was,  I  cannot  say.  They  did  not  want 
the  apples,  for  they  had  enough  in  their  own 
yards.  But  the  excursion,  the  whispered  direc 
tions,  the  darkness  and  the  decided  spice  of  dan 
ger  had  a  fascination  for  them  that  they  did  not 
resist.  That  it  was  stealing  pure  and  simple 
they  knew,  but  like  so  many  others,  they  con 
sidered  that  the  offense  consisted  mainly  in  de 
tection,  an  opinion  or  excuse  that  has  lured 

175 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

many  an  older  man  to  his  ruin. 

If  boys  could  only  understand  the  difference 
between  innocent  fun  and  wanton,  unnecessary 
and  malicious  horse-play,  a  vast  improvement  in 
our  young  people  would  be  assured,  and  I  cer 
tainly  believe  they  would  gain  more  real  fun 
and  genuine  enjoyment  out  of  life. 

The  passageway  from  thoughtless  mischief 
to  wanton  misdemeanor  is  short,  easy,  and 
downhill  all  the  way,  and  there  is  another  pas 
sageway  beyond  equally  steep  and  slippery. 

"Facilis  decensus  Averni, 
Sed  revocare  gradum,  hie  labor,  hoc  opus  est" 

has  been  a  hackneyed  maxim  for  centuries,  but 
a  mighty  true  one.  Forgive  me,  boys,  for  mak 
ing  you  read  latin  out  of  school.  You  have 
enough  of  it  there  without  doubt;  but  when  you 
come  to  this  passage,  commit  it  to  memory  and 
think  of  it  occasionally. 

Now  Plupy,   Beany  and    Pewt    had    never 
heard  of  this  maxim  and  would  not  have  heeded 
it  if  they  had,  I  am  afraid,  and  so  they  got  on 
176 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

the  downward  path  and  slipped  faster  than 
they  really  had  any  idea,  and  from  "hooking 
apples"  passed  to  tying  up  wagon  wheels,  and 
from  ringing  door  bells  to  breaking  windows. 

Down  on  Newmarket  road  near  the  salt 
marshes  and  mud  flats  dwelt  old  Hannah  Blos 
som,  a  colored  woman  with  a  face  as  round  as 
a  football,  a  body  as  round  as  a  tub  and  a  voice 
that  could  be  heard  a  mile  with  the  wind.  What 
her  real  name  was  nobody  ever  knew.  How 
old  she  was  or  how  long  she  had  lived  in  the 
little  one-roomed  shanty  or  where  she  came 
from  were  facts  equally  unknown.  Nor  did  the 
good  people  of  Exeter  care  particularly.  She 
filled  a  certain  niche  in  the  economy  of  the  town 
as  an  energetic  and  competent  washerwoman, 
and  that  was  all  they  cared  about  it. 

Her  face  and  figure  indicated  great  jollity 
and  good  nature,  and  in  her  ordinary  associa 
tions  with  the  townspeople  she  was  the  personifi 
cation  of  goodnature.  But  she  detested  boys,  and 
with  good  reason,  for  the  boys  of  Exeter  had 
been  the  plague  of  her  life.  She  kept  geese,  and 
177 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

the  boys  chased  them  in  boats  whenever  oppor 
tunity  offered,  so  that  they  lived  the  hunted  life 
of  wild  animals.  She  kept  hens  and  chickens, 
which  disappeared  mysteriously  from  their 
roosts,  and  as  in  the  history  of  "Griselda 
Goose." 

"Familiar-looking  bones  were  found 
That  set  her  own  a  quaking" 

But  the  meanest  and  most  exasperating  trick 
of  all  was  throwing  clay-balls  at  her  line  of 
freshly  washed  clothes.  At  such  times  her  pow 
er  of  vituperation  approached  the  limits  of  the 
sublime.  In  spite  of  her  size  and  weight  she 
was  very  active  and  on  several  occasions  she 
had  laid  in  wait  for  depredators,  sprung  upon 
them  from  ambush,  and  thrashed  them  so 
soundly  with  her  clothes-stick  that  they  never 
dared  pass  her  premises  on  the  same  side  of  the 
street  again  until  they  grew  up.  At  such  times 
she  voiced  a  strident  and  high-pitched  warning 
with  every  blow  of  her  flat  bat,  which,  with  the 
yells  of  the  sufferer,  made  quite  a  Wagnerian 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY'1 

symphony,  which  was  greatly  appreciated  by 
the  entire  neighborhood.  A  few  bars  of  this 
symphony  may  not  come  amiss. 

"Larn  yo',  yo'  po'  wite  trash,  bat,  oo-hoo- 
ouch,  to  brack  a  po'  cul'd  'ooman's  washin',— 
shake-bat, — wear  yo'  to  a  frazzle, — shake-bat- 
slam, -ow-ooee-murder-chase  ma  geese  will  yo', 
bat-bat,-lemme  be,-I'll  never,-bat-slam-shake,- 
take  that,  yo'  imp  o'  Satan,  'f  I  cotch  yo'  roun' 
heah  agin  I'll  kill  ye  dead  for  sho." 

It  was  safe  to  say  that  no  boy,  who  ever  went 
through  an  interview  of  this  kind  with  the  irate 
old  lady,  ever  took  any  chances  of  again  coming 
in  for  a  dose  of  her  particularly  effective  discip 
line,  and  in  this  way  she  wielded  a  tremendous 
influence  for  good  in  the  community,  and  took 
upon  herself  the  guidance  and  catch-as-catch-can 
discipline  of  those  tough  youths  who  did  not  get 
a  proper  amount  of  it  at  home. 

She  hated  boys  and  no  wonder,  and  at  the  ap 
proach  of  a  street  Arab,  the  whites  of  her  rolling 
eyes  showed  like  those  of  a  vicious  broncho. 
Her  combativeness  had  also  led  her  into  colli- 
179 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

sion  with  the  selectmen  of  the  town,  for  she 
was  a  squatter  on  the  town's  property  and 
maintained  her  position  by  the  strength  of  her 
good  right  arm  and  the  vigor  and  extent  of  her 
vocabulary.  Moreover  she  had  added  greatly 
to  her  land-holdings  by  accretion. 

That  is,  she  had  encouraged  people  who 
wished  to  get  rid  of  their  ashes,  tin  cans,  and 
other  rubbish  to  dump  the  same  on  the  water 
side  of  her  lot,  and  with  her  own  hands  had 
covered  the  dump  with  loam  and  had  quite  a 
flourishing  garden,  which  she  fenced  in  with  a 
homemade  fence  of  remarkable  pattern.  To 
prevent  her  from  acquiring  title  by  continued 
possession,  one  of  the  selectmen  occasionally 
with  force  removed  part  of  the  fence,  put  up  a 
notice  and  fled  for  his  life,  pursued  by  the  en 
raged  old  lady,  who  at  once  repaired  her  fence, 
burned  the  notice  and  waddled  up  to  Judge 
Stickney's  house  to  lodge  complaint  and  com 
mence  an  action  for  trespass  vi  et  armis,  which 
complaint  was  never  entered  in  court,  however, 
the  good  natured  old  attorney  knowing  only  too 
180 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

well  the  slight  claim  she  had  to  the  premises. 

Thus,  her  entire  existence  was  spent  in  war 
fare  with  the  boys  and  local  authorities  and  in 
daily  struggles  with  enormous  piles  of  soiled 
linen,  and  she  lived  the  life  of  an  honest, 
spunky,  well-meaning  and  kind-hearted  old 
warrior,  who  would  return  kindness  for  kind 
ness,  or  evil  for  evil  with  equal  readiness. 

Now  Plupy,  Beany  and  Pewt,  having  in  a 
measure  exhausted  the  excitement  of  their  im 
mediate  neighborhood,  branched  out  for  pas 
tures  new.  As  they  were  fishing  one  day  on  the 
flats  at  the  mouth  of  Kimmin's  brook  for  torn- 
cod,  they  ran  across  the  old  lady's  geese,  which 
came  swimming  down  the  shallow  brook,  and 
seeing  the  boys,  recoiled  with  sibilant  hisses  and 
strident  honking  screeches. 

This  was  enough  for  the  boys,  and,  rolling 
their  trousers  above  their  knees,  they  began  the 
chase.  Pewt  made  a  detour  and  got  beyond 
them  and  then  with  yells  and  shouts  drove  them 
shrieking  and  flapping  down  stream,  where  they 
were  headed  off  by  Plupy  with  much  splashing 

183 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

with  his  fish  pole.  Back  they  went,  passing 
Beany  midway  with  wings  outspread,  paddles 
working  and  necks  outstretched,  while  a  wake 
of  foam  and  spray  was  stirred  up  by  their  rapid 
motion. 

It  was  glorious  fun,  and  the  boys  ran  and 
shouted,  fell  down  and  daubed  themselves  with 
mud  and  drenched  themselves  with  water. 

All  at  once  a  harsh,  high-pitched  voice  split 
the  air  with  denunciations. 

"Yo  boys  yo,  I  knows  yo,  yo  Skinny  Bruce 
yo,  yo  Tady  Finton  yo,  yo  Scotty  Brigham  yo. 
I'se  gwine  tell  the  pleesmans  for  sho.  I  knows 
yo,  yo  imps  o'  satan." 

The  boys  stopped,  grinned,  and  then,  secure 
in  her  mistaken  identification,  continued  their 
sport.  They  knew  the  old  lady  couldn't  catch 
them,  and  they  felt  sure  that  Skinny,  Tady 
and  Scotty  would  easily  prove  an  alibi  if  com 
plaint  was  made  against  them.  So  up  and 
down  the  stream  went  their  hissing  victims, 
while  old  Hannah,  from  her  post  of  observation 
on  the  bank,  vainly  called  down  the  wrath  of 
184 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

heaven  on  the  miscreants. 

But  the  boys  carried  the  affair  further  than 
they  intended,  for  suddenly  one  old  fat  goose 
stretched  its  long  neck,  half  opened  its  wings, 
shivered,  trembled,  gasped,  and  then  the  eyes 
glazed,  the  head  fell  forward  and  it  lay  quiet. 
The  boys  stopped  and  stared,  they  had  never 
imagined  anything  could  kill  a  goose.  They 
looked  at  each  other  in  dismay.  "Gosh,"  said 
Plupy,  "it's  dead,  less  get  out  of  this." 

"I  guess  not,  boys,"  said  a  loud  voice  and, 
turning  in  terror,  they  saw  within  a  few  feet  of 
them  the  huge  figure  of  Charles  Lane,  a  burly 
blacksmith,  who  lived  on  the  bank  of  the  river, 
and  who  had  been  gunning  on  the  marshes,  as 
his  hip  boots  and  gun  indicated.  He  had  been 
attracted  by  the  shouts  of  the  boys  and  the  cries 
of  old  Hannah,  and  under  cover  of  their  ab 
sorption  had  walked  to  within  a  few  feet  of 
them,  and  had  witnessed  the  demise  of  the  old 
goose. 

"Now,  you  boys  don't  want  to  think  about 
runnin',"  he  drawled,  "for  this  gun's  loaded 
185 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

with  birdshot  and  shot'll  travel  a  little  faster  'n 
you  can.  So  git  yer  clothes  'n  fish  poles,  'n  that 
dead  goose  'n  we'll  go  over  ter  ole  Hannah's  'ri 
I'll  stan'  round  while  she  tans  the  hide  off'n  yer 
wi'  her  clothes  stick.  Start  now,"  he  added 
sharply. 

The  crestfallen  miscreants  obeyed,  gathered 
up  their  property,  waded  out  and  picked  up  the 
goose,  and  started  for  the  shanty,  followed  by 
their  captor,  who  carefully  and  ostentatiously 
examined  the  caps  of  his  gun  and  tried  the  ham- 
ners. 

When  they  arrived  there,  the  rage  of  old 
Hannah  knew  no  bounds.  It  was  a  case  for 
the  police  court;  it  wasn't  a  case  for  thrashing. 
In  vain  the  boys  begged  that  she  let  them  off 
with  a  thrashing,  she  was  adamant.  And  so  in 
a  few  minutes  a  procession  headed  by  the  wad 
dling  old  lady,  who  was  followed  by  three 
abashed  and  downcast  boys,  by  the  black, 
smith  with  his  shot-gun,  to  which  depended  the 
slain  goose,  was  on  the  way  to  Justice  Bell's 
office. 

186 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

The  old  lady  looked  the  personification  of  ac 
cusing  wrath ;  the  boys  the  image  of  guilt ;  and 
the  blacksmith  stern  and  forbidding,  although 
there  was  an  amused  twinkle  in  his  eye,  as  the 
populace  hailed  the  procession  with  delight,  and 
the  juvenile  portion  brought  up  the  rear  in  large 
numbers. 

They  arrived  at  the  office  of  the  justice.  That 
terrifying  presence  was  there  enthroned  behind 
a  large  desk.  He  looked  up,  and  his  deep-set 
eyes  pierced  the  boys  to  their  very  souls.  They 
were  guilty,  guilty  beyond  a  doubt.  Just  what 
technical  offence  they  were  guilty  of,  they  did 
not  know.  They  had  occasionally  with  bated 
breath  and  bulging  eyes  stolen  into  police  court 
and  listened  to  trials,  but  that  they  should  ever 
be  there  as  convicted  criminals,  they  had  never 
dreamed.  Visions  of  brawl  and  tumult,  assault 
and  battery,  malicious  mischief,  cruelty  to  ani 
mals,  breaking  the  peace  and  other  heinous  of 
fences  swam  before  them  and  their  heads 
dropped  lower  and  lower.  They  were  guilty, 
they  looked  it,  and  in  front  of  them  with  out- 
189 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

stretched  hand,  stood  their  accuser,  the  ebony 
goddess  of  vengeance.    The  door  closed  on  the 

public  and  is  closed  to  us. 

********* 

An  hour  passed.  To  those  outside  nothing 
had  been  heard  but  the  murmur  of  voices,  now 
high,  now  low,  now  strident  and  accusing,  now 
pleading  and  tearful.  Then  the  door  opened 
and  the  old  lady  appeared.  She  was  smiling, 
she  had  the  jaunty  air  of  a  conqueror,  she 
swung  her  shoulders  and  rolled  her  eyes.  Un 
der  her  arms  she  bore  her  deceased  goose.  By 
her  side  strode  the  blacksmith. 

Within  the  office  three  contrite  boys  sat  fac 
ing  the  old  Squire.  They  looked  chastened  but 
visibly  relieved.  They  had  made  promises,  they 
had  incurred  indebtedness,  they  had  parted  with 
personal  property,  but  they  felt  indescribable  re 
lief.  They  had  escaped  jail  and  disgrace  and 
lifelong  humiliation. 


190 


o 

k 

-s; 


CHAPTER  XI 


The   Squire  points   a  moral. 


i 


old    Justice    paused    and    then 
thought  a  moment.    His  spectacles 
were  pushed  up  to  the  mop  of  brist 
ly  gray  hair  on  his  forehead,  his 
lean  and  veinous  hands  clasped  his 
bony  knees.     There  was  a  silence  broken  only 
by  the  measured  ticking  of  the  old  round-faced 
Horton  clock  high  on  the  wall. 

At  last,  as  if  decided,  he  leaned  forward,  re 
placed  his  spectacles  and  peered  through  them 
with  his  gray  eyes,  doubly  piercing  through  his 
shaggy  gray  eyebrows. 

"I  'spose  that  you  boys  never  thought  of 
reely  killin'  thet  goose,  did  ye?"  he  queried. 

uNo  sir,  I  didn't  never,"  Pewt  hastened  to 
say. 

"Ner  me  neither,"  joined  in  Plupy  and 
Beany,  hastily. 

193 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

U'N  ye  didn't  think  thet  you  were  plaguing 
an  old  lady  and  destroying  her  property." 

"No  sir,"  they  asseverated  earnestly. 

U'N  ye  wouldn't  hev  liked  it  to  have  three 
boys  plague  your  mothers  or  your  aunts  like 
that,  would  ye?" 

"No  sir,  we  wouldn't,"  stoutly  affirmed  the 
prisoners. 

"Wa'al  then,  boys,"  demanded  the  Squire, 
"Why  did  ye  do  it?" 

"Why  sir,"  explained  Plupy  volubly,  confi 
dent  of  the  reasonable  character  of  his  explana 
tion,  "she  was  a  old  nigger  woman,  an'  we 
didn't  s'pose  she  would  care  so  much,  else  we 
wouldn't  ha'  did  it.  Would  we  ha'  Pewt,  would 
we  ha'  Beany?"  continued  Plupy,  seeking  con 
firmation  in  the  cumulative  testimony  of  his  co- 
miscreants. 

"Nigger  woman!"  blazed  the  Squire  in  a  ter 
rible  voice,  at  which  Plupy  shrunk  into  the  col 
lar  of  his  mud-splashed  shirt,  and  Pewt  and 
Beany  retired  behind  their  eye-balls  that  sud 
denly  expanded  like  dinner  plates.  "Who  was 
194 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

Abraham  Lincoln?" 

No  answer  from  the  paralyzed  boys. 

"Answer  me !"  said  the  Squire,  with  his  eyes 
narrowing  like  slits. 

"He  was  President  sir,"  stammered  Pewt. 

"What  did  he  do?" 

"He  freed  the  slaves,"  said  Beany,  recover 
ing  his  powers  of  speech. 

"What  did  he  do  that  for?"  insisted  the 
Squire. 

"'Cause  they  had  to  work  like  time,  'n  wuz 
licked  and  slammed  round,"  said  Plupy. 

"Wasn't  that  jest  what  you  boys  wuz  doing 
to  old  Hannah?"  demanded  their  inquisitor. 

The  three  boys  hung  their  heads  in  shame. 
"Look  here  boys,"  said  the  Squire  in  an  altered 
voice,  "I  don't  think  you  quite  understand  the 
matter  and  I  want  to  tell  you  a  story. 

"When  I  was  a  boy  'bout  yer  age,  ther'  wuz 
a  young  colored  boy  here  called  Josh  Zack. 
Nobody  knew  just  where  he  came  from.  He 
had  been  brought  here  by  a  fine-looking  gentle 
man  who'd  put  up  at  the  Dodge  Tavern  down 
195 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

pretty  near  the  place  where  yew  boys  were 
chasin'  these  geese.  The  mornin'  arter  the  gen 
tleman  wuz  found  dead  in  his  room  with  a  bot 
tle  of  pizen  in  one  hand  and  a  daguerreotype  of 
a  white-haired  old  lady  in  the  other. 

He  had  burned  his  papers  and  th'  wuzn't 
nary  thing  on  him  that  would  give  anyone  an 
idea  of  who  he  wuz  'n  where  he  came  from. 
The  colored  boy  wuz  near  dead  with  grief  and 
couldn't  tell  anything  about  him. 

Well,  they  put  notices  in  the  papers,  'n  they 
wrote  letters,  'n  they  tried  everything  to  find 
out  abaout  him,  but  couldn't  hear  a  word,  'n  the 
upshot  of  the  hull  matter  wuz  that  the  town  had 
ter  bury  him.  Ther'  wuz  an  alltermutterble 
howdy-dew  about  it,  'n  a  special  town  meetin' 
wuz  called,  'n  old  Cy  Pettigrew  'n  some  others 
said  the  caounty  had  ought  to  bury  him,  'n  they 
eenamost  fit  over  it,  but  Squire  Sullivan  said  't 
wuz  pretty  hot  weather  'n  they  better  bury  him 
first  'n  fight  'bout  the  pay  arterwards.  So  they 
did  it,  'n  I  never  knew  which  paid  it,  the  town 
er  the  caounty. 

196 


Josh  had  been  brought  here 
by  a  fine-looking  gentleman 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

"Wa'al,  the  next  thing  wuz,  who  sh'd  take 
the  nig — colored  boy.  Ole  Bill  Trefethen 
wanted  him,  but  Bill  was  so  mean  he  would  hev 
worked  him  like  a  nig — a  horse,  'n  probly  haff 
starved  him.  So  old  John  Emery  took  him  into 
the  tavern. 

"Wa'al,  boys,  he  wuz  the  smartest  feller  you 
ever  see,  and  the  best  to  the  boys.  He  blacked 
boots,  'n  run  arrents,  'n  rubbed  down  horses,  'n 
fed  pigs,  'n  waited  on  the  table,  though  some 
times  the  boarders  said  he  wuz  a  bit  strong,  him 
bein'  a  nig — colored  boy  'n  doin'  the  work  in 
the  stable,  but  everybody  liked  him. 

"Why,  he  wuz  the  greatest  feller  in  the 
woods  you  ever  see,  'n  seemed  to  know  by  in 
stinct  jest  where  the  squirrels'  nests  wuz,  'n  jest 
where  to  find  the  birdnests,  'n  ez  fer  fishin'  why, 
he  cud  ketch  a  ten  paound  pickerel  where  they 
hadn't  been  nothin'  seen  for  years  but  minnies 
er  horn  paout. 

"He  cud  swim  better  'n  any  feller  I  ever  see, 
'n  when  a  schooner  was  tied  up  to  the  wharf 
he  would  dive  from  the  yards.  'N  he  could 
199 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

swim  under  water  further  than  any  tew  of  the 
boys  together. 

"Ye  see,  'twuz  funny,  but  the  shock  of  his 
master's  death  was  so  great  that  he  couldn't  re 
member  anything  since  he  had  come  to  Ameri 
ca,  but  could  remember  all  about  the  days  when 
he  lived  in  Africa,  and  he  knew  all  the  birds  'n 
beasts,  'n  catamounts,  'n  different  tribes.  'N 
whenever  a  circus  'n  caravan  came  round  Josh 
was  jest  crazy  about  leopards  'n  lions  'n  tigers 
'n  elephants  'n  all  manner  of  rarin'  'n  tarin' 
beasts.  Why  once  he  went  into  a  circus  'n  jest 
chattered  at  the  animals  'n  it  did  seem  ez  if  they 
all  understood  him,  'n  the  man-eetin'  tiger  that 
nobody  dared  to  go  near  came  down  to  the  bars 
of  its  cage  'n  jest  licked  Josh's  hand. 

"Gosh!"  said  Beany. 

"By  time!"  chimed  in  Plupy. 

"Geewhittaker!"  gasped  Pewt. 

"Wa'al  boys,"   continued  the  Squire,   "that 

air  ornery  nig — colored  boy  was  the  beatenist 

feller  you  ever  see.     He  could  call  a  dog  away 

from  its  master,  drive  any  sort  of  a  runaway  or 

200 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

kicking  horse,  'n  milk  a  caow  that  would  kick 
as  high  as  a  man's  head.  Boys  'n  dogs  'n  babies 
'n  children  follered  him  about  jessif  they  wuz 
tied  to  him. 

"Wa'al  Josh  got  to  be  a  young  man  'n  got  to 
goin'  with  a  colored  girl  named  Minty  Ann.  She 
lived  down  near  where  old  Hannah's  cottage  is 
but  further  up  the  hill. 

"We  fellers  never  suspected  anything  until 
Josh  began  to  dress  up.  First  he  bought  a  pair 
of  galluses  to  keep  his  trousers  up.  Before  that 
he  either  used  a  nail  or  a  piece  er  string.  Then 
he  got  him  a  pair  of  the  aufullest  green  trousers 
you  ever  see  in  this  world,  a  blue  coat  with  brass 
buttons  thet  old  Squire  Sullivan  let  him  have, 
a  fireman's  red  helmet,  a  bright  red  hankercher 
and  the  biggest  pair  of  cowhide  stogies  I  ever 
see,  lessee,  they  wuz  number  fourteens.  That 
wuz  what  made  him  swim  so  fast,  his  feet  wuz 
jelluk  paddles." 

"Then  he  began  to  desart  us  evenins  when  we 
wuz  playin'  "Red  Lion,"  'n  "Run  Sheep  Run," 
'n  "How  Many  Miles  to  Barbaree,"  'n  "Tit- 

201 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Tat-two"  on  peoples  winders  with  a  brick,  Jn 
trippin'  up  people,  'n,  Hem!  Hem!"  coughed 
the  old  Squire  with  some  confusion  as  he  caught 
himself  and  realized  that  he  had  wandered 
from  his  moral. 

"So  we  called  a  council  of  war  and  one  day 
when  we  got  him  alone  we  went  f  er  him  'n  made 
him  tell.  Josh  laughed  'n  haw-hawed,  'n  kee- 
heed — but  finally  when  we  all  piled  on  him  and 
begun  to  tickle  him  he  gave  in.  Josh  couldn't 
stan'  tickling.  He  owned  up  that  he  wuz  a  goin' 
to  marry  Minty  Ann  ez  soon  ez  they  could  earn 
enough  money  to  hire  'n  furnish  the  little  house 
by  the  river.  That  old  Elder  Twilight  wuz  a 
goin'  to  marry  'em. 

"Well,  we  fellers  said  it  wuz  all  right  slong's 
Josh  invited  us  to  the  weddin'  'n  Josh  said  he 
would,  'n  so  that  night  we  all  piled  down  ter 
her  house  'n  made  them  both  treat. 

"You  know,  boys,  thet  there's  an  old  saying 

'n  a  true  one,   'That  fortune  knocks  once  at 

every  man's  door.'    Also  thet  'There's  a  time 

in  the  affairs  of  men  thet  taken  at  its  flood 

202 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

leads  on  to  victory.'  Well,  boys,  thet's  true 
too,  but  it  don't  always  lead  to  victory." 

The  boys  nodded,  for  those  old  saws  had 
been  hammered  into  them  for  years. 

"Wa'al,"  suthin'  er  thet  kind  happened  to 
Josh  all  ter  onct." 

"You  see,  one  day  a  fishin'  schooner  came 
up  the  river  'n  tied  up  at  the  upper  wharf.  Of 
course  we  boys  wuz  aboard  her  'baout  ez  soon 
ez  she  docked.  Josh  wuz  there  too  'abaout  ez 
soon  ez  we  wuz.  Don't  know  haow  many  times 
we  wuz  driv  off  the  schooner. 

"Wa'al,  the  next  day  the  schooner's  cook,  a 
big  brute  of  a  man  got  drunk  and  it  took  three 
plicemen  to  handcuff  him  'n  put  him  in  the  lock 
up.  They  fit  all  over  Water  Street. 

"Gosh,"  said  Plupy,  "I  wish  I  could  ha  seen 
it." 

"Thasso,"  said  Beany  with  unction. 

"Me  too,"  said  Pewt,  violently  nudging 
Beany. 

"The  next  day  Cap'n  Anderson,  thet  wuz  his 
name,  called  Josh  into  his  cabin  Jn  had  a  long 
203 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

talk  with  him.  When  Josh  told  us,  'baout  it  we 
nearly  tumbled  over  in  astonishment.  It  seems 
thet  old  Squire  Jotham  Lawrence  the  Jestice  be 
fore  whom  the  cook  was  tried,  had  sent  him  to 
jail  for  brawl  'n  tewmult,  'sault  'n  battery,  re- 
sistence  to  lawfully  constitewted  authorities 
which  wuz  pretty  serious  offences  'n  jest  what 
you  boys  hez  been  duin'  terday,  'n  I  might  hev 
done  the  same  to  yew  'f  I  hadn't  thought  they 
wuz  some  good  in  ye. 

"Gosh!"  whispered  Plupy,  shivering. 

"By  time !"  muttered  Beany  under  his  breath. 

"Gorryation!"  hissed  Pewt  in  terror. 

"Wa'al,  ez  I  wuz  savin',"  resumed  the 
Squire,  "Cap'n  Anderson  hed  lost  his  cook,  'n 
ez  the  schooner  came  from  South  Carline  'n 
couldn't  stay  here  but  a  week,  'n  couldn't  go 
back  without  a  cook,  the  cap'n  had  to  hire  one, 
so  he  offered  Josh  a  hundred  dollars  to  go  with 
him. 

"Wa'al,  Josh  didn't  know  what  to  do.  He 
wanted  the  hundred  dollars  because  it  would 
hire  'n  furnish  the  little  house,  but  he  hated  to 
204 


It  took  three  policemen  to 
handcuff  the  schooner's  cook 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

leave  us  'n  Minty  Ann  for  so  long,  as  he 
couldn't  get  back  until  Crismas  or  jest  before. 

"So  that  night  we  fellers,  'n  Josh  'n  Minty 
Ann  hed  a  counsel  of  war  in  the  old  Ladd  Cem 
etery.  We  talked,  'n  talked,  'n  argied  it  over 
in  every  way.  We  wuz  sorry  to  lose  Josh  for 
so  long,  but  we  told  him  we  would  look  out  for 
Minty  Ann  while  he  wuz  away,  'n  help  her  fix 
up  the  house,  'n  ez  Josh  promised  to  bring  us 
each  a  parrot  'n  a  monkey  we  thought  it  wuz 
a  good  thing  all  raound. 

The  next  day  wuz  set  aside  fer  a  good  time 
and  all  the  boys  'n  most  all  the  dogs  'n  Josh 
spent  the  entire  day  in  the  woods,  fields  'n  swim- 
min'  places.  Josh  told  us  again  the  stones  of 
his  early  life  in  Africa,  sang  the  songs,  'n 
danced  the  dances  of  the  native  Africans,  'n 
some  of  them  wuz  turrible  funny  ones  too,  'n  at 
night  we  all  went  up  to  Minty  Anns  'n  had  the 
best  supper  I  ever  et  in  my  life. 

Josh  sailed  the  next  day.  We  all  went  down 
to  the  wharf  to  see  him  off,  'n  one  of  the  fellers 
made  a  speech  'n  we  give  him  a  yellow  belt  with 
207 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

a  big  horse  pistol.  We  all  hugged  him,  and  it 
seemed  ez  if  he  and  Minty  Ann  couldn't  let  go 
of  each  other.  They  both  cried  like  two  big 
babies  and  I  guess  all  of  us  did  tew,  I  know  I 
did.  Then  we  all  escorted  Minty  Ann  home, 
and  she  cried  all  the  way. 

"Wa'al  the  next  six  months  passed  away 
quickly  enough,  for  we  boys  always  had  enough 
to  do,  'n  ez  fer  Minty  Ann  she  worked  every 
minute  for  that  house.  We  all  helped,  and 
whenever  she  bought  a  new  piece  of  furniture 
or  had  one  given  her  we  all  looked  it  over  and 
made  suggestions  as  to  where  it  should  be  put 
or  hung. 

As  Crismas  approached  we  wuz  as  oneesy  ez 
fleas.  We  could  hardly  wait  to  see  Josh  'n  ez 
fer  Minty  Ann  I  don't  believe  she  slep  a  wink 
the  night  before.  The  day  before  Crismas  we 
watched  the  railroad  station,  the  coaching  sta 
tions  'n  every  road  that  led  out  of  Exeter,  but 
no  Josh.  The  week  passed,  'n  no  tidins  from 
him.  It  was  turrible  to  see  the  grief  of  Minty 
Ann. 

208 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

"Regularly  every  mornin'  we  ran  down  to 
her  house  'n  explained  the  hundred  things  that 
might  hev  delayed  him,  'n  every  mornin'  we 
left  her  happy  'n  expectant,  'n  every  night  clean 
tuckered  out  with  disappintment. 

At  last  it  wuz  whispered  abaout  that  Josh 
had  been  sold  into  slavery,  and  the  public  be 
came  very  much  stirred  up  over  it.  When  Min- 
ty  Ann  first  heard  of  it  she  wuz  like  a  crazy 
critter  'n  went  ravin'  eraound  like  a  lunatic,  'n 
then  hed  a  spell  of  brain  fever  for  weeks. 

In  the  meantime  the  people  had  raised  money 
enough  to  send  a  lawyer  south  to  make  inquir 
ies.  They  put  advertisements  in  the  papers  and 
offered  rewards  fer  him.  But  nothin'  came  of  it 
all,  except  finding  the  schooner  in  Charleston. 
Anderson  hed  disappeared,  'n  the  crew  had  been 
paid  off  'n  hed  shipped  again.  The  last  seen  of 
Cap'n  Anderson  wuz  when  he  started  for  Ala 
bama  with  a  young  colored  man. 

After  six  or  seven  weeks  Minty  Ann  got 
raound  again,  a  thin,  worn,  hard-featured  wo 
man,  so  changed  from  the  jolly,  plump  Minty 
209 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Ann  of  the  old  days  that  we  could  scarcely  rec 
ognize  her.  When  she  wuz  told  of  the  result 
of  the  sarch  for  Josh,  she  made  no  comment, 
and  scarcely  seemed  to  understan'  it. 

"Wa'al,  years  passed  away  and  the  occur 
rence  eanamost  passed  out  of  mind.  I  had 
grown  to  a  young  man  and  had  been  away  to 
school.  Just  after  the  fall  of  Sumpter  I  came 
home.  There  was  a  power  of  excitement  at  /' 
every  station,  and  when  I  got  out  of  the  car  at 
Exeter  I  wuz  met  by  Minty  Ann,  her  eyes  shin- 
in'  'n  she  seemed  like  a  young  woman. 

"She  was  powerful  excited  'baout  the  war 
and  had  been  told  thet  Josh  \\x5uld  be  freed  'n 
come  home  'n  she  wanted  .to  know  what  I 
thought  'baout  it.  'Twuz  th^'  first  time  I  thought 
of  it  and  I  fairly  shouted  with  delight.  We  ha' 
got  to  win,  Minty  Ann,  I  said,  'n  we're  goin'  to. 
You'll  see  Josh  yet." 

"From  that  time  Minty  Ann  became  the  most    . 

bloodthirsty  Northerner  you   ever  see  in  this 

world.     She  took  a  turrible  delight  in  accounts 

of  battles  'n  lists  of  dead  'n  wounded.     She 

2IO 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

sewed,  knit,  picked  lint  'n  wore  her  fingers  to 
the  bone  working  for  the  soldiers.  She  wanted 
to  go  to  the  front  ez  a  nurse,  but  she  couldn't 
bear  to  think  that  Josh  might  come  back  'n  not 
find  her  waitin'. 

"Wa'al,  the  war  was  over  'n  the  regiments 
begun  to  come  back.  Every  train  thet  came 
through  Exeter  found  her  at  the  station  with  a 
basket  of  cookies  'n  jumbles  'n  things  for  the 
soldiers,  'n  haow  she  could  ask  questions,  but 
she  couldn't  find  out  the  leastest  thing  about 
Josh. 

"Time  passed,  the  vets  had  all  returned,  and 
hope  desarted  Minty  Ann  'n  she  again  grew 
thin,  haggard  'n  hopeless.  After  a  while  her 
mind  seemed  to  fail  her  and  she  became  rheu 
matic  and  almost  helpless,  and  when  the  new 
caounty  farm  wuz  built  she  wuz  sent  thar,  'n 
wuz  soon  forgotten  boys,  as  we'll  all  be  some 
day." 

"Gosh,"  said  Plupy,  "that  was  tough  on 
her." 

"I'd  like  to  lam  time  out  er  old  Anderson," 
211 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

said  Pewt. 

uHe  had  oughter  been  hung,  or  et  by  a  bear," 
declared  Beany,  with  heat. 

"A  few  years  ago  I  wuz  a  settin'  in  my  house 
one  night  in  winter.  There  wuz  a  turrible  driv- 
in'  snow  storm  outside,  'n  't  wuz  colder  'n 
Greenland.  Suddenly  the  bell  rung  'n  I  went  to 
the  door  'n  let  in  a  pliceman.  He  hed  been  to 
the  caounty  farm  thet  day  with  some  prisoner. 
He  told  me  there  wuz  an  old  colored  woman 
there  who  used  to  live  in  Exeter,  'n  she  wuz  dy- 
in'  'n  wanted  to  see  me.  He  said  jest  ez  yew 
did,  boys,  'she  is  an  old  nigger  woman  'n  I  guess 
it  don't  amaount  to  much,'  'n  it  hurt  me  when  I 
heerd  ye  say  it  boys." 

The  boys  hung  their  heads  in  shame,  as  the 
Squire  looked  at  them  with  stern  eyes. 

"We're  sorry,  'n  we  wouldn't  ha'  did  it  if 
we'd  thought,"  said  Beany  apologetically. 

"Why  boys,"  continued  the  Squire  after  a 
long  pause  and  a  glance  that  sunk  into  their 
guilty  souls,  "I'd  a  gone  to  the  farm  to  see  her 
ef  I'd  had  to  go  barefut,  'n  I  went.  Hed  to 

212 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

leave  the  pung  on  the  road  haffway  thar,  't 
wuz  so  drifty,  'n  hed  to  get  on  old  Whitey's 
back,  eenamost  froze  to  death,  but  I  got  thar. 

"When  I  got  thawed  out  enough  to  get 
abaout  and  had  seen  to  Whitey  who  wuz  eena 
most  used  up,  the  keeper  took  me  into  the  sick 
room  'n  I  got  a  start,  for  thar  on  a  bed  lay  an 
old  white-haired  colored  woman.  'Twuz  Min- 
ty  Ann,  I  knew  her  to  onct  by  her  eyes  'n  her 
smile,  'n  I  tell  ye  I  couldn't  speak,  ther  seemed 
tu  be  a  lump  in  my  throat  ez  big  ez  a  yarn  ball. 
So  I  sot  down  in  a  cheer  by  her  side  'n  jest  held 
her  hand,  'n  she  jest  laid  thar  'n  smiled. 

"Bimeby  she  began  to  speak.  She  called  me 
Marse  Jack  jelluk  she  used  to. 

"Oh,  Marse  Jack,  it  do  seem  good  to  see  yo. 
Ah  knowed  yo'd  come  to  see  ol'  Minty  Ann, 
honey.  Minty  Ann  couldn't  bar  gwine  without 
seein'  Marse  Jack.  Marse  Jack,"  and  here  her 
voice  grew  tremulous  and  her  face  took  on  the 
same  old  pitiful  pathetic  look,  'my  Josh,  he 
never  kim  back  while  Minty  Ann  was  sick,  hey?' 

'No,  Minty  Ann,  he  was  never  heard  of.  God 
213 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

alone  knows  where  he  is',  I  answered. 

"Minty  Ann  lay  quiet  for  a  few  minutes  with 
closed  eyes.  Finally  she  said,  Tse  felt  to-night 
Marse  Jack,  lak  I'se  gwine  find  my  Josh,  lak 
he's  gwine  lay  'is  head  on  my  bres,  dis  pore  bres 
dat's  been  empty  dese  long  years,  so  long  time, 
Marse  Jack,  so  long  time.  Dat  he's  gwine  come 
back  to  Minty  and  'splain  whar  'es  been.  I'se 
dream  ob  tings  dis  yer  night,  ob  Josh  en  de  ol' 
cap'n,  ob  yo's  faddy  an'  mammy  so  good  to 
Minty  en  Josh,  ob  yo',  Marse  Jack,  en  de  boys, 
en  my  ol'  heart  mos  bruk  for  wantin'  to  see  you 
onct  befo'  I  went.  I  hears  you  has  little  boy, 
Marse  Jack,  en  my  ol'  heart  es  glad  en  hopes 
de  little  boy  so  good  as  his  fadder  en  his  mam 
my.  I'se  pray  de  bressed  Lord  that  yo'  heart 
en  yo'  bres  nebber  be  empty  es  pore  old  Min- 
ty's.' 

"The  pore  old  thing  wuz  so  weak  thet  she 
stopped  for  a  few  minutes,  'n  nothin'  wuz  heard 
but  the  tickin'  of  the  clock.  Finally  she  begun 
again. 

"  Tse  great  favor  to  ax  yo'  Marse  Jack.  When 
214 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

I  done  dead  kin  I  be  buried  in  de  ol  cemtry. 
Pears  lak  Fse  gwine  be  nearer  Josh  dar,  en 
kin  I  have  a  white  coffin  wid  spangles  on  de 
side  en  gimcrack  handles?  En  could  I  have  a 
white  stun  wid  Josh  en  Minty  en  gret  big 
writin'  ?' 

"I  promi*ed  her  it  should  be  as  she  wished, 
and  she  smibd  contentedly,  and  feebly  pressed 
my  hand. 

'  Tse  one  ting  I'se  saved  for  yo,  Marse 
Jack.  Put  ycj  hand  en  my  bres  en  tak  dat  little 
bag.  It  was  Josh  gin  me  -dat,  en  I  knows  he 
tink  yo  bes  'serve  it.' 

"I  silently  put  it  in  my  pocket,  and  she  dozed 
for  a  few  moments.  Finally  she  opened  her 
eyes,  and  with  a  bright  smile  said, 

'  Tse  try  to  forgib  dat  cap'n  man,  but  I  no 
tink  I  kin  quite.  Tell  yo  little  boy  dat  Minty 
lak  to  make  him  cooky.  I'se  very  tired — en 
hope  see  Josh  soon.' 

"That  wuz  the  last  she  said,   for  she  died 
right  arter  thet,  'n  I  sot  'n  held  her  hand  for  a 
long  time.    The  next  mornin'  I  made  arrange- 
215 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

ments  for  her  funeral  in  the  old  cemetery. 

"Sometime,  boys,  when  ye  gwup  thar,  jest 
look  at  those  twin  stones  thar.  'Twuz  the  least 
I  could  do  for  the  pore  old  critter.  Wa'al,"  he 
continued  with  a  smile  that  thawed  out  his 
gnarled  and  frosty  countenance  like  the  sun  on 
a  frost,  "the  boys  near  mobbed  m<.  to  let  them 
pay  their  share,  jest  insisted  on  it.  They  wuz 
good  boys,  the  hull  on  'em." 

"Judge,"  said  Pewt,  after  vigorous  nudges 
by  Plupy  and  Beany,  raising  his  hand  as  if  he 
were  in  school,  "what  did  Miss  Minty  Ann  give 
you?" 

kkOh  yes,"  said  the  Squire,  "I  clean  forgot 
thet.  When  I  got  home  I  opened  the  bag  and 
thar,  whacher  s'pose  it  wuz?  It  wuz  the  pic 
ture  of  the  harnsom  white-haired  old  lady  thet 
hed  been  found  in  the  dead  man's  hand  so  many 
years  ago." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  then  the  Squire 
nodded  dismissal  to  the  boys  and  they  stole  out 
on  tiptoe.  As  they  glanced  back  the  Squire  sat 
gazing  into  vacancy,  busy  with  memories  of  the 

past. 

216 


CHAPTER  XII 


Plupy  enters  upon  a  short  but  meteoric  mercantile  career 
and  with  the  aid  of  his  friends  introduces  pleasing  variety 
into  the  management  of  a  country  store. 


i 


kindness  of  the  old  Squire  and 
their  narrow  escape  from  jail  did 
not  fail  to  have  an  influence  for  the 
better  on  the  boys.  Plupy  had 
purchased  immunity  from  further 
complaint  of  the  old  laay  by  the  sacrifice  of  an 
old  Brahma  rooster  and  a  yjlow  hen,  bor^ 
somewhat  stricken  in  years  but  still  in  fair  con 
dition.  Pewt  and  Beany  had  agreed  to  paint 
the  single  floor  of  her  modest  dwelling,  which 
they  were  enabled  to  do  without  expense,  as 
their  fathers  were  both  "Painters,  Grainers, 
Glazers  and  Paper  Hangers,"  as  their  concise, 
yet  comprehensive  and  gaudily  painted  signs  in 
formed  the  public. 

The  time  of  Beany  and  Pewt  could  scarcely 
be  taken  into  consideration,  as  it  was  not  exact- 
217 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

ly  a  marketable  commodity,  and  so  Plupy  was  at 
once  freed  from  all  further  responsibility,  while 
they  had  still  duties  to  perform. 

Plupy's  conscience  always  troubled  him  after 
punishment  for  or  conviction  of  any  offence,  and 
this  case  was  no  exception.  Although  he  grieved 
for  the  loss  of  his  old  rooster  and  hi;  venerable 
hen,  he  did  not  consider  he  had  pai  \  any  more 
than  he  deserved,  and  he  reflected  over  the  cer 
tainty  that  detection  and  punishment  always  fol 
lowed  evil  doing,  and  resolved,  as  he  had  a  hun 
dred  times  before,  to  ^CwOrne  a  law-abiding  citi- 
/.^  and  a  cre^'t  to  the  town  that  gave  him 
birth. 

In  furtherance  of  this  resolve,  he  determined 
to  seek  a  situation  for  the  short  remaining  time 
of  his  vacation.  Jack  Melvin,  who  had  been 
working  in  "old"  Tom  Conner's  grocery  store 
as  chore  boy,  had  severely  jammed  his  hand  in 
helping  move  a  barrel  of  flour  and  had  been 
obliged  to  give  up  a  situation  that  he  had 
adorned  for  several  weeks.  Truth  to  say,  his 
employer  had  not  been  particularly  sorry  to 
218 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

part  with  him,  because  Jack,  although  an  active, 
bright  and  intelligent  youth,  was  too  much  giv 
en  to  the  society  of  such  desperate  characters  as 
Skinny  Bruce,  Jim  Early,  Honey  Donvan  and 
Hiram  Mingo. 

Plupy,  learning  of  this  opportunity  in  one  of 
his  enforced  visits  to  the  store  in  quest  of  sup 
plies  for  the  family,  at  once  applied  for  the  posi 
tion,  and  the  old  gentleman,  influenced  by  the 
liberal  patronage  of  a  large  and  hearty  family, 
at  once  engaged  him  at  a  salary  to  be  dependent 
upon  his  efficiency,  which  was  a  good  thing  for 
both  parties,  inasmuch  as  it  furnished  a  power 
ful  incentive  for  Plupy  to  make  himself  abso 
lutely  indispensable  to  his  employer,  in  which 
case  he  could  charge  an  enormous  salary  and 
speedily  become  rich  and  great. 

And  while  Beany  and  Pewt  were  undergoing 
the  drudgery  of  enforced  labor,  Plupy  entered 
joyfully  upon  a  mercantile  life  and  appeared 
the  next  morning  at  a  phenomenally  early  hour, 
unlocked  the  store  door  and  proceeded  to  take 
down  the  shutters.  Not  calculating  accurately 
219 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

the  weight  of  these  articles,  the  moment  he  re 
leased  one  from  its  bars  he  was  borne  quickly 
to  earth  and  crushed  almost  flat  by  its  superin 
cumbent  weight. 

He  succeeded  in  crawling  out  after  prodig 
ious  wiggling  and  removed  the  other  without 
damage  beyond  chipping  a  piece  from  one  cor 
ner  as  it  struck  the  brick  sidewalk  edgewise. 

He  then,  according  to  directions,  proceeded 
to  sweep  out  the  store  and  had  succeeded  in 
raising  a  most  terrific  dust  when  his  employer 
arrived,  and  reproved  him  with  great  harshness 
for  not  sprinkling  before  sweeping,  which  sen 
sibly  abated  his  enthusiasm  for  the  life  of  a 
merchant,  and  further  obliged  him  to  carefully 
dust  the  countless  articles  in  the  store.  As  it  was 
Friday,  there  was  no  delivery  wagon  on  duty 
that  day,  delivery  of  goods  only  being  made  on 
Tuesdays,  Thursdays  and  Saturdays  of  each 
week. 

Plupy  was  then  put  to  work  encasing  the 
handle  end  of  salt  fish  in  coarse  brown  paper, 
scooping  brown  sugar  from  barrels,  drawing 
220 


I 


Plupy  was  borne  quickly 
to  earth 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

kerosene  and  molasses,  plunging  his  hands  in 
pork  barrels  full  of  brine  and  dragging  from  its 
depths  oblong  pieces  of  fat  pork,  spearing  salt 
mackerel  from  smaller  but  less  fragrant  barrels, 
trying  his  hand  vainly  at  the  skillful  task  of  do 
ing  up  brown  paper  parcels,  (there  were  no  pa 
per  bags  in  those  days),  digging  potatoes  from 
a  dusty  bin  in  the  back  shop,  running  errands 
and  exerting  himself  in  a  hundred  ways. 

When  he  went  to  dinner  he  was  tired,  his 
hands  were  sore  and  his  feet  ached,  but  he  was 
exceedingly  conscious  of  the  dignity  of  his  posi 
tion,  and  ate  his  dinner  with  great  solemnity, 
and  forgetting  to  fill  the  wood-box  he  rushed  for 
the  store,  with  his  coat  over  his  arm  and  the 
jaunty  swing  of  the  bundle  clerk. 

Arrived  at  the  emporium,  he  graciously  al 
lowed  his  employer  to  go  to  his  dinner  and  upon 
his  departure  immediately  sampled  figs,  the  loaf 
sugar  and  the  raisins,  all  of  which  had  figured 
prominently  among  the  incentives  which 
prompted  him  to  take  the  position.  The  head 
clerk,  coming  in  about  this  time,  lighted  a  cigar, 
223 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

sat  down  in  the  easy  chair  ordinarily  occupied 
by  his  employer,  and  proceeded  to  instruct 
Plupy  in  his  duties,  which  consisted  in  doing 
everything  that  the  head  clerk  was  expected  to 
do. 

During  the  afternoon  business  was  slack.  The 
old  gentleman  did  not  return  from  dinner  un 
til  about  three  o'clock,  and  Plupy  in  the  mean 
time  had  swept  up  the  store  again,  moved  a 
cart  load  of  boxes  and  parcels  and  incidentally 
absorbed  a  pound  or  so  of  dried  prunes,  which 
began  to  swell  and  cause  him  some  internal  dis 
comfort. 

He  could  not  eat  any  supper,  and  after  spend 
ing  a  wretched  evening  in  alternately  obeying 
orders  of  his  employer  and  the  head  clerk,  and 
fighting  off  the  pangs  of  dissolution,  he  was  al 
lowed  to  go  home,  where  he  became  violently 
ill,  but  was  soon  relieved  by  strong  doses  of 
warm  water  and  mustard,  and  fell  into  the  deep 
and  dreamless  sleep  that  follows  manly  toil. 

The  next  morning  he  rose  unwillingly,  yet  be 
times,  and  found  himself  as  stiff  as  a  soda 
224 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

cracker,  but  ravenous  for  his  breakfast  and  en 
thusiastic  for  his  business.  He  bolted  his  break 
fast  in  hot  haste  and  hurried  to  the  store.  He 
was  a  little  late  and  in  endeavoring  to  hasten 
the  removal  of  the  shutters  he  was  unfortunate 
enough  to  break  a  pane  of  glass  in  the  front 
window,  which  earned  for  him  not  only  the 
stern  reproaches  of  his  employer,  but  an  entry 
on  the  debit  side  of  his  account  of  75  cents, 
which  depressed  him  greatly. 

However,  it  was  delivery  day  and  he  was  to 
drive  the  team  after  the  head  clerk  had  returned 
with  the  orders.  So  he  cheered  up  and  swept 
out,  and  went  through  the  various  duties  im 
posed  on  him  with  great  cheerfulness  and 
alacrity.  As  he  worked,  his  stiffness  gradually 
abated,  and  he  came  to  forget  his  misfortune  in 
breaking  the  glass. 

Now  one  of  the  most  important  duties  of  a 
retail  grocery  dealer  is  to  accurately  distribute 
the  articles  ordered.  It  is  very  trying  to  the 
good  housewife  who  has  ordered  a  dozen  eggs, 
which  she  must  have  at  ten  o'clock  sure  to  make 
225 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

that  cake  she  has  promised  for  the  Unitarian 
sociable,  to  find  their  place  taken  by  clothes 
pins,  and  it  is  hardly  fair  for  the  woman  who 
has  set  her  heart  upon  salt  pork,  to  be  expected 
to  content  herself  with  the  unwelcome  arrival 
of  dried  apples.  Nor  does  kerosene  fill  the 
same  place  in  the  economy  of  the  household  as 
molasses  or  coffee-crushed  sugar. 

Accordingly,  great  pains  were  taken  to  im 
press  Plupy  with  the  absolute  necessity  of  ob 
serving  great  care  in  the  proper  delivery  of  the 
goods,  and  the  different  bundles  were  properly 
labelled  before  being  intrusted  to  his  care,  and, 
with  many  injunctions  sounding  in  his  ears,  he 
drove  off  in  great  elation.  The  horse  wore  a 
hitch-rein  to  which  a  heavy  iron  weight  was  at 
tached  and  at  the  first  stopping  place,  at  Mrs. 
Oilman's  on  Front  street,  the  home  of  Fatty, 
Plupy  sprang  from  the  team,  adjusted  the  hitch- 
rein,  deliverd  his  bundles,  climbed  into  the  wag 
on  and  clucked  to  the  horse. 

He  had,  unfortunately  for  unimpeded  pro 
gress  omitted  to  loosen  the  hitch-rein  and  the 
226 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

horse,  feeling  the  bearing  of  the  weight,  turned 
so  abruptly  that  he  tipped  the  wagon  up  until 
part  of  the  contents,  consisting,  of  course,  of  a 
dozen  or  two  of  eggs,  three  parcels  of  sugar 
and  a  dozen  plates,  fell  in  the  street  and  were 
scattered  from  curb  to  curb  before  Plupy  could 
stop  the  horse.  To  add  to  his  discomfiture, 
two  sporty  gentlemen  who  were  taking  advan 
tage  of  a  chance  opportunity  to  have  a  little 
horse-race  were  compelled  to  pull  their  foam 
ing  charges  up  on  their  haunches  and  with  great 
abruptness,  which  caused  them  to  let  loose  a 
storm  of  inelegant  abuse  on  that  much  disturbed 
youth  that  nearly  drove  him  to  recourse  in  tears. 
He  backed  his  horse,  straightened  his  team, 
got  down  on  his  knees  and  did  the  best  he  could 
to  collect  his  scattered  wares,  but  with  indiffer 
ent  success.  He  got  most  of  the  sugar  back  in 
the  paper,  but  it  was  sanded  in  a  much  greater 
degree  than  the  most  economical  imagination  of 
any  grocer  would  allow,  and  as  for  the  eggs, 
well- 

229 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

"Humpty  Dumpty  sat  on  a  wall, 
Humpty  Dumpty  had  a  great  fall; 

All   the  King's  horses  and  all  the  King's  men 
Couldn't  put  Humpty  Dumpty  together  again." 

Resolved,  however,  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad 
matter,  he  delivered  the  rest  of  his  wares  with 
out  accident  and  in  some  trepidation  returned  to 
the  store  to  make  good  the  loss  and  secure  a 
new  load. 

His  employer  displayed  great  indignation 
over  the  matter  and  promptly  entered  the 
amount  of  the  loss  to  Plupy's  account  and  ex 
pressed  a  very  decided  opinion  that  Plupy  was 
the  "Biggest  Idjut"  he  ever  "see  or  heerd  tell 


on." 


Little  by  little  the  impression  was  creeping 
over  Plupy  that  the  position  of  clerk  in  a  gro 
cery  store  was  not  going  to  be  quite  as  lucrative 
a  situation  as  he  had  expected,  and  when  his 
employer  and  the  head  clerk  withdrew  for  din 
ner  he  was  almost  too  much  depressed  to  enjoy 
his  figs  and  raisins,  of  which,  mindful  of  his  ex 
perience  of  the  evening  before,  he  ate  sparingly 
but  with  great  enjoyment. 
230 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

He  was  further  cheered  by  the  arrival  of 
Beany  and  Pewt,  who  had  finished  their  en 
gagement  at  Miss  Blossom's  and  were  in  search 
of  adventures,  including  figs,  raisins  and  brown 
sugar.  Plupy  at  once  and  with  great  liberality 
shared  all  he  had  in  his  hands  and  pockets,  but 
refused  to  get  any  more  from  the  stock,  taking 
high  moral  ground. 

The  boys  took  exception  to  this  and  argued 
their  views  strongly,  but  Plupy  wouldn't  budge 
from  his  position.  However,  he  had  no  objec 
tion  to  showing  goods,  which,  as  this  was  a 
country  store,  consisted  of  a  large  variety,  from 
New  England  rum  to  cowhide  boots.  Among 
this  variety,  to  their  great  delight,  they  found 
several  very  curious  pop-guns.  They  were  pis 
tol  shaped,  and  in  place  of  the  hammer  there 
was  an  arm  five  inches  long,  that  was  attached 
to  a  strong  spring,  and  had  at  its  end  a  brass 
cup  which  held  the  projectile,  a  small  stone, 
bean  or  shot.  The  arm  when  pulled  back  and 
fastened,  was  loosed  by  the  trigger  and  oper 
ated  somewhat  as  a  sling  shot. 
231 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

The  boys  were  delighted  with  this  weapon 
and  at  once  secured  small  stones  from  the  street 
and  began  to  practise  in  turn.  Several  dogs, 
who  were  peacefully  plodding  along,  had  their 
pace  greatly  accelerated  by  these  missiles,  and 
the  old  store  cat,  quietly  sleeping  in  the  sun, 
jumped  at  least  ten  feet  at  the  first  shot  and  dis 
appeared  across  the  street  with  wild  leaps  and 
expanded  eyeballs. 

The  boys  nearly  died  with  laughter  at  every 
shot,  and  finally  when  Pewt  electrified  an  old 
farm  horse  into  coltlike  activity  while  its  aston 
ished  owner  frantically  pulled  on  the  "web- 
bins"  and  "whoaed"  and  "hawed"  with  aston 
ishment  and  indignation,  they  fairly  doubled  up 
with  merriment,  and  loaded  up  for  the  next  vic 
tim. 

It  was  Beany's  next  turn,  and  he  cocked  his 
weapon  and  waited.  Soon  Plupy,  who  tiptoed 
to  the  door  to  watch,  announced  that  old  man 
Gilmore  was  coming  along  with  an  old  plug, 
whereat  Beany  made  ready  and  they  all  waited 
breathlessly.  The  old  plug  came  in  sight  and 
232 


<^>    \ 

•^  t- 


II 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Beany,  raising  the  pop-gun  to  the  required  ele 
vation,  pulled  the  trigger  just  in  time  to  catch 
Plupy's  employer,  who  briskly  stepped  in  view, 
cheerful  and  refreshed  by  a  good  dinner,  a 
stinging  blow  on  the  end  of  his  capacious  and 
prominent  nose. 

The  Conners  were  all  men  of  substance,  men 
of  ability  and  men  of  worth,  and  like  many 
prominent  families  of  those  days,  bore  in  their 
face  some  distinguishing  features.  In  the  Con 
ner  family  it  was  the  nose,  which  in  the  men  was 
large,  fleshy  and  prominent,  and  capable  of  as 
tounding  bugle  tones  when  judiciously  assisted 
by  a  red  bandanna  handkerchief. 

Mr.  Thomas  Conner  was  an  excellent  man,  a 
man  of  courtesy,  a  man  of  even  temper,  a  man 
of  charity,  and  a  God-fearing,  Christian  gentle 
man.  A  venerable  man  of  comfortable  habits, 
he  was  not  given  to  feats  of  agility,  but  the  im 
pact  of  the  stone  on  his  nose  seemed  to  change 
his  nature  to  that  of  a  ravening  wolf,  and  he 
entered  the  store  with  a  spring  like  a  panther 
and  a  shout  like  a  wild  Irishman  at  a  Hibernian 
235 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

picnic. 

Pewt  dove  out  of  the  side  window  like  a  frog, 
and  fled  down  across  the  wharf;  Beany  dodged 
under  the  old  gentleman's  extended  arm  like  a 
boy  playing  "coram"  and  went  through  the 
front  door  like  a  shot,  his  fat  legs  in  such  rapid 
motion  that  they  were  almost  invisible,  his  head 
thrown  back,  his  elbows  at  his  side,  and  every 
nerve  strained  to  accelerate  his  speed. 

Plupy  rushed  behind  the  counter,  closely  fol 
lowed  by  the  veteran;  he  swarmed  over  it,  the 
old  man  vaulted  it  like  a  boy  between  the  front 
door  and  his  victim;  Plupy  fled  frantically  for 
the  back  room  hoping  for  an  exit  in  that  direc 
tion;  his  enemy  was  at  his  heels;  he  seized  an 
empty  barrel  in  passing  and  whirled  it  in  the 
path  of  his  pursuer;  the  old  man  fell  over  the 
barrel  with  a  prodigious  crash,  but  was  up  in  a 
second  with  redoubled  wrath.  Out  into  the 
front  shop  again,  Plupy  just  out  of  reach,  round 
the  store  again  behind  the  counter,  Plupy's  col 
lar  just  an  inch  away  from  the  outstretched  and 
fateful  hand  of  his  pursuer.  Again  they  fled 
236 


•2s 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

through  the  back  room,  and  Plupy  by  terrific 
sprinting  gained  a  bit.  Alas,  in  trying  to  turn 
he  slipped  on  the  molasses  covered  floor,  fell 
and  the  old  gentleman,  unable  to  stop,  fell  over 
his  prostrate  body,  recovered  himself  and  rose 
with  Plupy  in  a  vice-like  grip,  and  rushed  him, 
feet  scarcely  touching  the  ground,  to  the  office, 
where  his  stout,  gold-headed  cane  awaited  him. 
Poor  Plupy,  in  spite  of  his  protestations,  his 
cries,  his  writhings  and  twistings,  was  caned 
soundly,  and  discharged  without  a  recommenda 
tion  as  a  "most  worthless,  good-for-nothing  ras 
cal."  Poor  Plupy,  who  had  but  a  day  before 
made  such  good  resolutions  and  who  had  antici 
pated  so  much  pleasure  and  profit  from  a  busi 
ness  life.  To  go  home  to  his  family  smeared 
with  molasses,  shorn  of  his  business  reputation, 
and  criss-crossed  with  welts  like  a  plaid  dress ! 
Poor,  poor  Plupy! 


239 


CHAPTER  XIII 


The  Elder  Shute  rescues  a  chicken  and  rebuilds  a  barn. 

FROM  the  preceding  sidelights  on  the 
character  of  our  friend,  Plupy,  one 
may  have  gained  the  impression  that 
he  was  not  only  a  mischievous  boy 
but  far  worse,  a  cruel  lad.    Any  such 
impression  was  an  injustice  to  him.     Far  from 
being  cruel  he  was  extremely  kind-hearted  and 
affectionate,   as  were  most  of  his  companions 
and  acquaintances. 

When  Plupy  landed  a  hard  green  apple  un 
der  the  ear  of  an  innocent  and  inoffensive  old 
gentleman  and  transformed  that  dove  of  peace 
into  a  ravening  wolf,  thirsting  for  the  blood  of 
any  small  boy  on  the  street,  he  had  no  thought 
of  the  pain  he  inflicted,  of  the  mortification  of 
the  old  gentleman  when  he  dispassionately  re 
viewed  his  bursts  of  language,  of  the  danger  of 
apoplexy  caused  by  the  rush  of  blood  to  his 
241 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

head  due  to  his  rapid  passage  over  fences  and 
down  alleys  in  futile  pursuit  of  his  prey. 

No,  he  only  felt  a  justifiable  pride  in  his 
marksmanship,  and  a  keen  and  unalloyed  delight 
in  the  sinful  profanity  and  wondrous  agility  of 
the  mark. 

Again,  when  a  smooth  pebble  or  a  couple  of 
buckshot  impelled  with  terrific  force  from  his 
slingshot  impinged  upon  a  dog  or  cat  peaceably 
taking  the  air,  the  shrill  yelp  of  the  canine  and 
the  loud  yawl  of  the  feline  and  their  frantic 
leaps  for  safety,  gave  him  such  delight  that  he 
rolled  on  the  ground  with  laughter.  And  yet, 
the  idea  of  pain  never  entered  his  head,  and  if 
the  same  dog  or  cat  were  drowning  or  caught  in 
a  trap  he  would  go  to  any  length  to  save  or 
relieve  them. 

The  highly  colored  spatter  that  a  rich,  ripe, 
and  juicy  tomato  would  make  when  propelled 
with  judgment  between  the  shoulders  of  a  friend 
dressed  in  his  Sunday  suit  on  a  week  day,  was 
to  him  not  only  interesting  from  an  artistic  view 
and  delightful  from  a  humorous  standpoint,  but 
242 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

thoroughly  justifiable,  for,  as  he  expressed  it, 
"No  feller  hadn't  got  no  business  to  wear  his 
best  clothes  on  a  weekday,  and  any  feller  which 
done  it  had  ought  to  be  plugged." 

No,  Plupy  was  not  cruel,  only  a  bit  perhaps, 
thoughtless,  with  a  very  keen  sense  of  the  ridic 
ulous,  and  possessing  an  active  imagination.  On 
one  occasion,  being  the  fortunate  possessor  of  a 
wing-tipped  partridge,  he  spent  all  his  half-holi 
days  for  a  month  in  excursions  to  the  woods  in 
the  football  season,  where  he  painfully  gathered 
partridge  berries  and  other  woodland  plunder, 
scratched  himself  with  briars,  mired  himself  to 
the  eye-brows  in  bottomless  bogs,  smeared  his 
clothes  and  hands  with  pitch,  and  impaled  him 
self  on  hidden  stubs,  in  order  to  nurse  and  care 
for  his  pet 

He  would  toss  his  rooster  over  the  fence  into 
a  neighboring  hen  yard  and  watch  the  contest 
which  immediately  ensued,  with  soul-absorbing 
interest,  and,  the  fight  once  decided,  whether 
for  or  against  his  bird,  he  would  bathe,  salve 
and  care  for  the  bruised  and  bloody  gladiators 

243 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

with  the  greatest  care  and  patience. 

He  was  always  bringing  home  diseased  dogs 
which  invariably  developed  fits  and  had  to  be 
killed,  or  cats  that  had  fleas  and  drove  the  en 
tire  family  to  scratching  and  complaining. 

He  was  fond  of  frogs,  toads,  mice,  squir 
rels,  birds,  worms,  beetles,  slugs,  snakes  and  all 
sorts  of  crawling,  creeping,  biting,  stinging  and 
otherwise  unpleasant  vermin,  to  which  he  was 
invariably  kind  and  attentive,  although  his  min 
istrations  to  their  needs  usually  resulted  in  their 
untimely  deaths. 

He  was  particuarly  fond  of  chickens,  and  al 
ways  had  several  broods  every  spring  and  sum 
mer,  which  he  watched  over  like  a  guardian  an- 
gel. 

Plupy  inherited  this  fondness  for  animals 
from  his  father,  who  had  a  mania  for  purchas 
ing  spring-halted  and  spavined  old  plugs  and 
treating  them  with  a  variety  of  decoctions  of 
his  own  inventing,  which,  when  applied,  al 
though  warranted  to  remove  the  cause  of  lame 
ness  or  disease,  removed  nothing  but  the  hair 
244 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

and  oft-times  the  hide  of  the  afflicted  but  patient 
animals. 

He  would  buy  cows  that  promptly  developed 
garget,  horn-ail,  or  sevenfold  indigestion  in 
every  one  of  their  stomachs  at  once,  and  in  time 
he  would  succeed  in  removing  them  from  a  sin 
ful  world  by  judicious  and  kindly-intentioned 
treatment. 

And  so  one  night  when  Plupy  brought  him 
the  appalling  intelligence  that  one  of  his  newly 
hatched  chickens  had  been  buried  in  a  corner  of 
the  barn  beneath  the  super-incumbent  weight  of 
about  a  ton  and  a  half  of  hay,  the  old  gentle 
man  was  all  sympathy,  and  with  him  sympathy 
meant  action. 

Armed  with  a  couple  of  forks,  Plupy  and  his 
father  mounted  to  the  barn  loft.  "Listen  fath 
er,"  said  Plupy,  breathing  heavily  through  the 
nose  from  his  haste  in  mounting  the  stairs. 

"Howjer  spose  I  can  listen,  when  you  are 
breathing  like  a  planing  mill?"  retorted  the  old 
gentleman.  "Shut  up,  and  praps  I  can  hear 
something." 

245 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Thus  adjured  Plupy  held  his  breath.  Sure 
enough,  they  heard  a  distant,  muffled  peep  from 
one  corner  where  the  hay  was  piled  the  highest. 

"There  he  is,"  said  Plupy's  father,  and  with 
great  vigor  began  to  pitch  huge  forkfuls  of  fra 
grant  hay  on  poor  Plupy  with  stern  parental 
command  to  stow  it  away  and  be  lively.  In 
deed,  had  not  Plupy  been  in  the  highest  degree 
lively  and  energetic  he  would  soon  have  shared 
the  fate  of  the  imprisoned  chicken.  Indeed,  it 
was  only  by  taking  advantage  of  the  frequent  in 
tervals  when  the  old  gentleman's  wind  gave  out, 
that  Plupy  by  hard  work  managed  to  keep  his 
head  above  the  surface.  As  it  was  he  was  hard 
put  to  keep  up,  and  his  tongue  hung  out  like  a 
panting  dog,  while  he  inhaled  hayseed,  dust, 
and  a  variety  of  foreign  substances  that  made 
him  sneeze  thunderously  and  wheeze  like  a 
grampus. 

For  an  hour  they  worked  with  short  intervals 

of  rest  and  refreshment,  without  incident.    The 

feeble  peeping  became  nearer  and  stronger;  the 

mound  of  hay  decreased  steadily  while  that  be- 

246 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

hind  Plupy  became  mountainous.  Finally  they 
removed  the  last  forkful.  "There  he  is,  fath 
er,"  shrieked  Plupy,  "grab  him,  quick!" 

Both  Plupy  and  his  father  dashed  forward 
and  grabbed  frantically  at  the  small  mite.  Their 
heads  came  together  with  a  thud.  "Ow!  ow! 
ow!!"  howled  Plupy  as  he  went  over  back 
wards,  striking  his  head  resoundingly  on  the 
bare  boards. 

"What  in  thunder  you  trying  to  do,  you 
numbhead?"  roared  Plupy's  father,  holding  his 
nose  with  both  hands  and  blinking  through  a 
flash  of  fireworks. 

Plupy  arose  warily  and  ready  to  dodge  the 
expected  cuff,  but  it  came  not,  for  his  father 
stood  staring  at  a  small  hole  in  the  side  wall  of 
the  barn  with  his  eyes  bulging  out  like  walnuts. 

"Well,  I  swear,"  he  growled,  "that  infernal 
little  cuss  fell  down  that  hole. 

Instantly  hostilities  were  suspended  and  they 
listened  intently.  Sure  enough,  from  the  depths 
of  the  hole  came  the  feeble,  frightened  peeping 
of  the  little  prisoner. 

247 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

"Whacher  goin'  t'  do  now,  father?"  queried 
Plupy. 

"Let  the  little  idiot  rip,"  snarled  Plupy's 
father.  "Whaddier  think,  I'm  goin'  to  crawl 
down  that  hole  like  a  thunderin'  garter  snake?" 
he  continued,  with  fine  sarcasm. 

"I  guess  not,"  he  continued  without  waiting 
for  a  reply,  "I've  broke  my  back  and  strained 
both  arms  pitchin'  over  more'n  fifteen  tons  of 
damp  hay  that  weighed  three  thousand  pounds 
to  the  ton,  and  I've  breathed  in  a  half  bushel  of 
hayseed  and  cobwebs,  and  I'm  not  going  to  lift 
a  finger  if  that  cussed  chicken  peeps  until  dooms 
day,"  and  Plupy's  father,  snorting  with  disgust, 
tramped  heavily  down  the  creaking  stairs,  fol 
lowed  by  the  reluctant  Plupy,  almost  in  tears. 

"Aw,  come  on  now  father,"  he  pleaded, 
"what's  the  good  of  leaving  the  poor  little 
thing  in  that  hole?" 

"I  tell  you  I've  done  all  I'm  goin'  to,"  said 
Plupy's  father. 

"Howdjer  like  to  be  in  a  hole  like  him?" 
queried  Plupy. 

248 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

"  'F  I  didn't  know  any  better  than  to  fall 
down  a  hole  when  somebody  was  tryin'  to  save 
my  life  I  ought  to  stay  there,"  retorted  Plupy's 
father  grumpily. 

"But  I  think  it's  mean  to  leave  a  poor  little 
chicken  to  die  down  in  a  black  hole  like  that. 
Jest  like's  not  a  big  rat  will  get  him,"  said 
Plupy  mournfully,  "it's  mean  as  dirt,  so  now!" 

"Not  another  word,  sir,"  said  Plupy's  father 
warningly,  "unless  you  want  to  get  your  ears 
boxed." 

Plupy  discreetly  said  no  more,  but  went  down 
by  the  side  of  the  barn  and  listened.  Pretty 
soon  he  shouted,  "Say  Father,  he's  right  inside 
here,  and  if  we  can  pull  this  board  out  about 
an  inch  or  two  we  can  get  him." 

"Git  a  crowbar  over  to  Sam  Dyers  and  we 
will  try  it.  Hurry  up  now,"  said  Plupy's  father, 
again  laying  off  his  coat. 

Plupy  ran  for  the  crowbar  and  returned  in 

half  a  minute.     Then  Plupy's  father  inserted 

the  point  of  the  bar  in  the  crack  and  sprung 

it  back  an  inch  or  so,  whereupon  Plupy,  to  as- 

249 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

sist,  promptly  put  his  fingers  in  the  crevice  thus 
made.  Just  at  this  point  Plupy's  father,  seeing 
a  better  place,  removed  the  crowbar  and  the 
board  sprung  back  and  cruelly  pinched  poor 
Plupy's  hands. 

"Ow !  Ow ! !  Ow ! ! !  I'm  caught,  father !  you'r 
pinchin'  my  fingers  off !  Ow !  Ow ! !"  he  roared. 

"You  thunderin'  fool!  whatcher  put  them  in 
there  for?"  stormed  Plupy's  father,  rushing 
back  with  the  bar  and  prying  the  boards  apart, 
while  Plupy,  wailing  loudly,  pressed  his  in 
jured  fingers  between  his  knees  and  alternately 
bent  double  and  straightened  out  in  dire  an 
guish  of  spirit 

"Come!  come!"  said  Plupy's  father  impa 
tiently,  you  are  not  killed  quite  yet,  so  stop 
howling." 

"Guess  you'd  howl  if  you  had  all  your  fingers 
jammed  into  puddin',"  groaned  Plupy. 

Finally,  however,  he  calmed  his  troubled 
spirit  and  with  his  father  turned  again  to  rescue 
the  imprisoned. 

The  next  move  was  to  put  the  point  of  the 
250 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

bar  under  a  board  and  Plupy's  father  straight 
ened  up.  The  board  did  not  give  or  spring. 
Again  he  heaved  like  a  Titan.  No  result.  Then, 
giving  utterance  to  a  gruntingly  expressed  de 
termination  to  "start  the  cu-cu-ssed  thing  if  he 
bub-bub-broke  the  bar,"  he  strained  and  tugged 
until  the  cords  in  his  neck  stood  out  and  his  eyes 
became  bloodshot. 

Still  no  result.  Plupy's  father  was  puzzled 
until  he  found  that  he  had  placed  the  bar  be 
neath  the  stone  foundation  and  was  trying  des 
perately  to  lift  the  entire  building  single-handed 
and  alone,  whereupon  he  cursed  heartily. 

Next  he  carefully  placed  the  bar  in  the  right 
place  and  threw  his  weight  on  it.  Crack!  the 
board  came  off  so  quickly  that  he  fell  on  his 
hands  and  knees  with  his  hands  under  the  bar. 

Plupy  did  not  laugh.  He  knew  better  than 
that.  Plupy's  father  should  not  have  said  such 
things  as  he  did  in  Plupy's  hearing. 

Now  Plupy's  father  was  a  man  of  determina 
tion,  and  right  there  he  registered  a  solemn  vow 
to  get  that  chicken  if  he  tore  that  barn  down, 
251 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

and  he  went  about  his  task  promptly  and  vigor 
ously  but  with  a  singular  absence  of  skill  and 
neatness. 

Plupy  watched  his  father  with  bated  breath 
as  clapboards,  sheathing  and  studding  fell  in 
showers,  and  the  crack  and  shiver  of  rending 
wood  filled  the  air.  Finally  Plupy's  father  got 
the  chicken.  It  ran  out  into  the  grass  and 
boards  under  Plupy's  father's  feet.  They 
hunted  some  time  for  it  and  finally  found  it. 
Plupy's  father  had  accidentally  stepped  on  it. 
Plupy's  father  weighed  two  hundred  and  fif 
teen  pounds.  The  chicken  was  very  small,  but 
after  it  was  stepped  on  it  spread  out  over  a 
considerable  space. 

The  carpenters  came  next  day  and  the  day 
after  and  the  day  after  that. 

Plupy's  father  was  a  kind-hearted  man,  but 
nobody  in  the  family  said  anything  to  him  about 
it.  It  would  not  have  been  well  to  do  so. 


252 


CHAPTER  XIV 


With  the  humane  intention  of  promoting  the  common 
welfare  and  smoothing  of  the  asperities  of  war,  the  boys 
get  up  a  "Debatin'  Club." 


DURING    the    somewhat  checkered 
boyhood  of  our  friend  Plupy,  the 
little  town  of  Exeter,  unfortunate 
as  the  birthplace  of  such  desperate 
characters  as  Plupy,  Pewt,  Beany, 
Puzzy,  Whack,  Bug,  Skinny,  Fatty  and  others, 
was,  per  contra,  fortunate  in  having  maintained 
for  a  series  of  years  an  excellent  course  of  lec 
tures  known  as  the  "Lyceum  Course." 

From  a  literary,  educational  and  social  point 
of  view  the  Lyceum  held  a  position  of  unques 
tioned  pre-eminence  in  the  opinion  of  thinking 
citizens,  but  in  the  candid  opinion  of  the  boys  it 
fell  far  short  of  the  intrinsic  and  manifold  excel 
lence  of  "Comical  Brown,"  "Dolly  Bidwell," 
"Morris  Brothers'  Minstrels"  and  "Wash- 
burn's  Grand  Sensation." 
253 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

However  the  Lyceum  was  not  without  its  ef 
fect  upon  the  minds  of  our  small  friends,  as  in 
one  way  or  another,  by  passing  bills,  running 
errands,  helping  the  janitor  sweep  the  Town 
Hall  floor  or  assisting  in  exhuming  the  rickety 
settees  from  the  cellar,  they  succeeded  in  attend 
ing  the  lectures  with  praiseworthy  regularity, 
and  marvelled  open-mouthed  over  the  astonish 
ing  statements  of  famous  gentlemen,  who  came, 
saw,  conquered,  and  retired  with  established 
reputation  and  replenished  bank  accounts. 

Our  young  friends  having  exhausted  their  in 
genuity  in  rehearsing  shows  of  all  sorts  in  Fat 
ty's  barn,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  idea  of 
having  a  course  of  lectures  of  their  own  should 
occur  to  the  fertile  mind  of  Plupy.  It  was  in 
fact  the  most  likely  thing  to  have  occurred  to 
that  thoughtful  youth,  as  he  had,  or  to  speak 
more  correctly,  thought  he  had,  which  for  all 
practical  purposes  amounted  to  the  same  thing, 
a  decided  talent  for  literary  composition,  and 
possessed  a  style  both  unusual  and  appalling. 

Indeed  so  far  from  winning  the  unstinted  ap- 
254 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

proval  of  his  good  preceptor,  in  the  exercise  of 
his  peculiar  gift  he  had  successively  and  success 
fully  achieved  distinction  in  turning  out  the 
worse  specimens  of  composition  ever  seen  in 
that  school. 

Far  from  being  dismayed  at  lack  of  appre 
ciation,  Plupy,  with  smiling  optimism,  attributed 
it  to  want  of  literary  taste  on  the  part  of  his 
teacher,  and  persevered  in  acquiring  a  style  and 
polish  of  a  hitherto  unknown  quality.  And 
when  this  chance  so  opportunely  arrived  he 
grasped  it  with  enthusiasm,  and  broached  the 
idea  confidently  to  his  friends. 

He  was  grieved  to  encounter  on  their  part  a 
want  of  ardor  and  but  little  encouragement  in 
his  literary  aims,  a  phenomenon  which  experi 
ence  has  taught  me  is  not  uncommon  in  the  lit 
erary  world  of  to-day.  But  by  tangible  promise 
of  refreshments,  enthusiasm  of  a  mild  sort  was 
engendered  in  their  benighted  minds,  and  by 
skilfully  dangling  this  glittering  bait  before 
their  eyes  he  finally  enlisted  Beany,  Puzzy, 
Whack,  Bug,  Fatty  and  Billy  Swett  for  the 

255 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

course  and  appointed  Wednesday  evening  of 
the  ensuing  week  as  the  date  of  the  first  meet 
ing,  which  gave  him  ample  time  to  prepare  an 
essay  of  a  severely  moral  nature,  under  the  title 
of  "Cheeting." 

At  the  hour  appointed,  the  subscribers  to  the 
course  met  in  the  large  kitchen  of  Plupy's  house, 
and  as  a  preliminary  measure  held  a  short  busi 
ness  meeting,  in  which  it  was  voted  by  a  strong 
majority  that  Fatty  should  preside  and  intro 
duce  the  lecturer. 

This  happy  result  was  not  exactly  a  tribute  to 
his  superior  qualifications  for  the  position,  but 
was  due  in  great  measure  to  his  undoubted  phy 
sical  prowess  and  his  truculent  intimation  of  his 
ability  to  "lick"  any  boy  in  the  crowd  in  the 
very  short  period  of  two  minutes. 

That  his  election-fell  short  of  entire  unanim 
ity  was  due  to  the  less  pacific  disposition  of  Bug 
who  loudly  vociferated  "No"  and  intimated 
carping  distrust  of  Fatty's  ability  to  "lick"  any 
body. 

The  vote  being  declared  however  and  quiet 
256 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

restored,  Fatty  arose  to  introduce  the  speaker 
just  in  time  to  receive  in  his  flushed  and  beam 
ing  countenance  a  spitball  of  such  plastic  prop 
erties  as  to  adhere  with  some  firmness,  with 
which  projectile  Bug  sought  to  emphasize  his 
dissatisfaction  with  the  late  election. 

Serious  trouble  was  averted  by  the  interposi 
tion  of  peacemakers,  and  after  as  lucid  an  intro 
duction  as  the  circumstances  allowed,  Plupy 
modestly  arose  and  essayed  to  moisten  his 
throat  with  a  bumper  of  sweetened  water  which 
was  placed  on  the  table  in  front  of  him. 

Now  Beany,  who  was  by  disposition  guileful, 
and  who  sought  to  enliven  the  exercises  by  the 
introduction  of  pleasing  variety,  had  substituted 
a  glass  of  strong  vinegar  for  the  milder  decoc 
tion,  and  when  Plupy  introduced  this  acrid  li 
quid  into  his  swanlike  throat,  a  sudden  and 
startling  explosion  of  coughs,  crows  and  gasps 
followed,  which  compelled  a  hasty  retirement  to 
the  sink  and  the  application  of  drastic  measures 
to  enable  him  to  regain  his  breath. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  outraged  lecturer 
257 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

could  be  persuaded  to  return  to  the  platform, 
but  finally  order  was  restored  and  Plupy,  hold 
ing  his  manuscript  at  the  proper  angle,  in  a  high 
pitched  and  most  unnatural  voice  delivered  him 
self  of  the  following  literary  sunburst: 

CHEETING 

A  moral  essay  by  Plupy  depicting  the  evils  of  ''cheeting" 
and  enlarging  on  the  depravity  of  one  Charles  "Talor" 
and  Pewt. 

they  is  3  kinds  of  cheeting.  meen  cheeting, 
cheeting  for  fun,  and  cheeting  becaus  they  is 
times  when  it  wood  be  pretty  meen  not  to  cheet. 

it  is  rong  to  cheet  enny  person,  some  people 
whitch  have  cheeted  and  have  got  money  whitch 
had  aught  to  belong  to  the  people  whitch  have 
erned  it  onestly  and  whitch  have  been  cheeted 
out  of  it,  have  lived  sinful  lives  and  have  gone 
to  jale  at  last. 

"Huh,  old  Gethro  Simpson  had  ought  to  go 
to  jail  for  cheetin'  us,"  interrupted  Beany,  bit 
terly,  but  was  silenced  by  the  chairman  and  the 
lecturer  proceeded. 

258 


Beany  had  substituted  a 
glass  of  strong  vinegar  for 
the  sweetened  water 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

cheeting  is  prety  bad  some  times  but  it  is  not 
as  bad  as  stealing,  my  father  says  so  and  i 
gess  he  knows,  one  day  i  was  playing  marbles 
with  Pewt  and  Beany  and  when  it  was  my  tirn 
to  set  up  an  ally  i  set  up  a  big  white  one  which 
was  esy  to  hit  and  Beany  he  did  two  (at  this 
point  Beany,  feeling  that  the  eyes  of  the  world 
were  upon  him,  looked  extremely  virtuous)  and 
when  Pewt  set  one  up  he  set  up  af  teeny  little 
chinee  and  crowded  it  into  the  mud  so  me  and 
Beany  coodent  hardly  see  it  and  he  dreened  us 
out  of  all  the  marbles  we  had.  i  lost  48  marbles 
and  3  agats  and  6  allys  and  Beany  he  lost  92 
big  marbles  and  then  Pewt  woodent  set  us  up 
and  went  off  ratling  them  in  his  pockets  so  as 
to  make  us  mad,  and  we  was  mad  two  but  we 
wood  have  been  madder  if  Pewt  had  stole  our 
marbles,  the  next  time  we  plaid  i  got  the  littlest 
chinee  i  cood  find  to  set  up  and  Pewt  he  kept 
fudging  and  then  i  fudged  two  and  Pewt  waa 
mad  and  kept  holering  no  fudging  and  all  the 
time  he  was  fudging  two  and  i  dreened  Pewt 
and  he  was  mad  that  time,  me  and  Beany  we 
261 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

said  Pewt  cheeted  the  ferst  time  and  Pewt  he 
said  i  cheeted  the  second  time,  but  neether  of 
us  wood  steal  except  Perry  Moltons  apples  and 
that  is  only  hooking.  (Great  relief  and  appre 
ciation  was  manifested  at  this  subtle  distinc 
tion). 

Most  all  peeple  cheet  sometimes,  my  father 
and  Charles  Talor  are  all  the  time  cheeting 
eech  other  in  trades  and  when  they  find  it  out 
they  dont  get  mad  a  bit.  cheeting  like  that  aint 
rong  becaus  they  do  it  jest  for  fun. 

one  day  Charles  Talor  come  over  to  the 
house  with  a  new  pair  of  boots  under  his  arm 
and  said  he  wanted  to  sell  them  to  father  becaus 
they  was  two  tite  for  him.  and  father  he  laffed 
and  said  it  wasent  much  sence  in  Talor's  trying 
to  wear  number  9  boots  on  number  12  feet,  and 
Talor  he  laffed  two.  then  father  said  how  much 
was  the  boots  and  Talor  said  you  cood  get  boots 
not  a  bit  better  than  those  at  old  Stacys  for  5 
dolars  and  a  half  and  at  Erl  and  Cutts  for  5 
dolars  and  75  cents  but  he  said  he  got  these  so 
cheep  that  he  would  let  father  have  them  for 
262 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

4  dolars  and  50  cents,  so  father  he  tride  them 
on  and  he  stamped  his  foot  and  said  they  felt 
buly  and  he  told  Talor  he  wood  give  him  2  dol 
ars  and  50  cents  and  they  talked  and  talked  and 
talked  and  bimeby  Talor  he  said  he  would  take 
3  dolars  and  25  cents  as  long  as  it  was  father 
but  he  wood  be  feerfully  cheeted.  so  father 
paid  for  them  and  Talor  went  of  loking  prety 
glum  and  father  he  laffed  and  said  he  guessed 
he  was  about  even  with  Talor  for  the  hen  trade 
when  Talor  sold  him  some  spring  chickens  with 
spirs  on  them  2  inches  long  and  he  showed 
mother  the  boots  and  said  they  was  wirth  6  dol 
ars  if  they  was  wirth  a  cent  and  he  only  paid  3 
dolars  and  25  cents  for  them  and  mother  she 
said  that  i  needed  a  pair  of  boots  two  and  as 
long  as  he  saved  so  much  on  his  boots  he  had 
better  buy  me  a  pair  and  father  he  laffed  and 
said  he  wood  and  the  next  nite  we  went  down  to 
Erl  and  Cutts  and  asked  for  a  pair  of  boots  for 
me,  and  Mister  Erl  said  he  had  some  good 
boots  whitch  he  was  selling  for  almost  nothing 
becaus  they  had  been  in  the  store  so  long,  so 

263 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

father  bought  me  a  pair  for  i  dolar  and  25 
cents  and  they  was  jest  like  the  ones  mister  Tal- 
or  sold  father  and  then  mister  Erl  asked  father 
if  he  dident  want  a  pair  for  himself  and  father 
said  he  had  a  new  pair  and  Mister  Erl  he  said 
he  sold  Talor  a  pair  jest  like  fathers  for  one 
dolar  and  twenty-five  cents  and  father  timed 
red  and  said  yes  Talor  saw  his  new  boots  and 
liked  them  so  well  that  he  bought  a  pair  of 
cheep  ones  that  looked  jest  like  them,  then  we 
went  out  and  father  said  he  wood  fix  Talor  for 
that  and  he  give  me  five  cents  not  to  tell  mother 
and  Aunt  Sarah  for  they  wood  laff  at  him  for  a 
year.  (Great  applause  by  the  audience,  and 
much  commiseration  over  the  profidious  con 
duct  of  Talor). 

they  is  lots  of  other  kinds  of  cheering,  some 
times  when  we  are  playing  crokay  we  try  not  to 
have  to  go  through  the  middle  wicket  but  we 
most  always  get  cought  when  we  cheet  and  then 
Cele  gets  mad  and  wont  play  with  us  til  the 
next  time. 

i  gess  most  everybody  cheets  some,  some- 
264 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

times  somebody  comes  to  the  house  whitch  no 
body  wants  to  see  and  Aunt  Sarah  will  say,  for 
mersy  sakes  Joanna  there  comes  that  dredful 
woman,  but  when  she  comes  in  they  say  they  are 
auful  glad  to  see  her  and  make  her  take  of  her 
things  and  stop  to  supper  and  they  put  on  the 
best  china  and  have  gelly  and  hot  bisket.  so 
one  day  I  asked  Aunt  Sarah  if  that  wasent  cheet- 
ing  and  Aunt  Sarah  she  said  perhaps  it  was,  but 
if  we  dident  do  enny  wirse  cheeting  than  making 
peeple  feel  prety  good  she  gessed  it  wasent  very 
bad  cheeting. 

the  time  Fliperty  Flannigan  marked  all  my 
words  rite  and  i  was  going  to  get  a  prise  for  the 
best  speler  it  was  cheeting  but  old  Francis  licked 
time  out  of  me  becaus  i  told  him  i  hit  Cawcaw 
ferst  and  i  wasent  going  to  get  another  licking 
you  bet.  (Nods  of  approbation  and  shouts  of 
"That's  right  Plupy,  bully  for  you,"  upon  which 
Plupy  much  encouraged,  proceeded). 

sometimes  the  fellers  cheet  in  school,  if  a 
feller  cant  resite  his  lesson  all  rite  and  another 
feller  whiten  sets  next  to  him  knows  the  ansor 
265 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

he  is  a  prety  meen  feller  if  he  dont  tell  him. 
(vociferous  applause  from  the  audience,  on 
whom  this  sentiment  appears  to  have  made  a 
decided  hit) .  old  Francis  says  it  is  the  wirst 
thing  a  feller  can  do,  and  ennybody  whitch  will 
do  that  will  come  to  a  bad  end,  but  i  wood  rath 
er  have  old  Francis  think  i  was  a  tuff  nut  than 
to  have  the  fellers  think  i  was  meen,  (Great 
applause)  only  i  don't  like  to  have  him  lick  time 
out  of  me  for  it.  (laughter),  the  other  day 
in  geografy  lesson  old  Francis  asked  Beany 
what  was  the  capital  of  New  Jersey  and  i 
thaught  Beany  dident  know  becaus  he  most  al 
ways  misses  (here  Beany  volunteered  the  in 
formation  that  he  guessed  he  didn't  miss  any 
more  than  Plupy  but  was  appeased  when  Plupy 
apologized  by  saying  that  Beany  was  smart 
enough  only  he  was  always  raising  time)  and 
so  i  whispered  Hartford  and  New  Haven  and 
Beany  he  holered  Hartford  and  New  Haven 
and  old  Francis  grabed  Beany  and  shook  him 
round  lively  and  sent  him  to  the  foot  of  the 
class.  Beany  was  auful  mad  with  me  becaus  he 
266 


•  52 


I 

3 
O 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

was  jest  going  to  answer  rite  when  i  told  him 
rong,  and  he  woodent  speak  to  me  for  2  days, 
(vociferous  cheers  and  cat-calls  which  suddenly 
stopped  when  a  sharp  rapping  was  heard  on 
the  floor  above  where  the  family  were  peace 
fully  gathered). 

They  is  other  kinds  of  cheeting  two.  once  me 
and  Beany  was  fiting  (deep  interest  manifested 
on  the  part  of  all,  and  "which  licked?"  was  the 
breathless  question  from  Bug)  and  all  of  a  sud 
den  Beany  began  to  hold  on  to  his  stumoch  as 
if  he  was  sufering  feerful  and  when  a  feller  is 
fiting  and  holds  on  to  his  stumoch,  it  aint  fair  to 
hit  enny  more  than  it  is  to  hit  him  when  he  is 
down,  and  so  i  stoped  and  leaned  over  to  see  if 
he  was  hurt  and  Beany  he  stratened  up  and  hit 
me  a  feerful  paist  in  the  eye  and  blacked  it  and 
so  i  got  licked  that  time.  Beany  he  thought  it 
was  a  prety  good  trick  to  play  on  me  and  i 
thought  so  two  after  i  got  over  my  mad  and  the 
next  time  i  had  a  fite  with  Pewt  i  pretended  i 
was  auful  hurt  and  held  on  to  my  stumoch  and 
bent  up  double  and  wached  my  chance  to  straten 
269 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

up  like  Beany  did  and  black  Pewts  eye  but  Pewt 
dident  give  me  enny  chance  and  gumped  on  me 
when  i  was  all  bent  double  and  lammed  me.  i 
think  that  was  prety  meen  cheeting  for  Pewt. 
(Great  indignation  expressed  by  all). 

and  so  fellers  as  i  said  before  cheeting  is 
rong,  and  we  had  aught  never  to  cheet  if  we 
can  help  it  and  never  to  cheet  meen  ennyway." 

When  the  applause  had  subsided  the  hospit 
able  Plupy  passed  round  apples,  popcorn  and 
sweetened  water  to  which  full  justice  was  done 
and  the  date  of  the  next  lecture  was  set  for  the 
Wednesday  following,  and  as  the  nine  o'clock 
bell  rang  from  the  tower  of  the  old  white 
church,  the  boys  departed  after  exacting  a 
promise  from  Plupy  to  be  sure  and  not  forget 
the  refreshments. 


270 


CHAPTER  XV 


A  regular  Donnybrook  fair  of  a  debate. 

PRIOR  to  the  next  regular  meeting  of 
the  club,  some  slight  jealousy  had 
arisen  in  the  youthful  bosoms  of  the 
audience  over  the  undue  prominence 
that  Plupy  had  occupied  as  sole  ora 
tor  on  this  never-to-be-forgotten  evening. 

The  ease  with  which  he  had  delivered  his  es 
say  or  lecture,  and  the  astonishing  excellence  of 
the  material,  had  implanted  in  the  breasts  of 
the  other  boys  an  ambitious  desire  to  shine 
even  as  Plupy  had  shone. 

Accordingly,  a  special  meeting  of  the  club 
had  been  called  at  Whack's  house,  and  that  gen 
tleman  voiced  the  unanimous  sentiment  that 
"Some  of  the  other  fellers  had  ought  to  have  a 
little  show." 

Strange  to  say,  Plupy  objected  to  this  and 
somewhat  peevishly  inquired:    "What's  eatin' 
271 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

you  fellers  anyway?" 

To  this  Bug  replied  scornfully:  "You  needn't 
think  you  are  the  whole  show,"  and  further  in 
timated  that  it  made  him  "sick  to  see  a  feller 
which  wanted  to  be  always  yappin." 

As  this  view  of  the  case  seemed  to  be  rather 
unanimous  Plupy  was  somewhat  nonplussed, 
and  again  desired  information  as  to  what  was 
"eatin'  them." 

,  In  reply,  Fatty  informed  him  that  he  pro 
posed  to  deliver  a  little  essay  of  his  own  "com 
posure,"  as  did  Whack  and  Bug,  Puzzy,  Doc, 
Tomtit  and  Beany,  whereupon  Plupy  in  huge 
disgust  informed  them  that  he  "guessed  he 
wasn't  a  goin'  to  furnish  grub  for  the  whole 
crowd  for  so  many  nights,"  and  further  sug 
gested  that  someone  else  had  "gotter  trot  out 
the  grub  and  hall." 

This  was  somewhat  of  a  poser  for  the  rest, 
for  no  other  boy  could  boast  a  basement  kitchen 
so  conveniently  removed  from  the  rest  of  the 
house  as  to  allow  them  to  do  about  as  they 
wished  without  seriously  annoying  their  elders. 
272 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

So  the  other  boys  shifted  their  ground  a  bit, 
and  resorted  to  persuasion  and  flattery. 

"Aw  now,  Plupy,  what's  the  use  of  bein'  mean 
about  it?"  queried  Bug. 

"That's  so,  Plupy,"  chimed  in  Doc,  "we  fel 
lers  know  you  can  do  it  better'n  us  fellers,  but 
that  ain't  no  reason  why  we  hadn't  ought  to 
have  any  chance." 

"Aw,  come  on  Plupy,"  said  Fatty,  persuasive 
ly,  "it  aint  like  you  to  be  mean." 

"You  bet  it  aint,  Fatty,"  said  Tomtit,  nod 
ding  his  head  assertively,  "Plupy  is  the  gener- 
ousest  feller  out  if  you  don't  try  to  drive  him." 

"That's  so,"  added  Puzzy  with  fine  diplo 
macy,  "Plupy's  a  bad  one  to  drive,  and  he  has 
got  plenty  of  spunk,  but  nobody  ever  knew 
Plupy  to  be  mean.  Only  las'  night  Fatty  said  a 
feller  could  have  more  fun  at  Plupy's  than  any 
where  else." 

Now  Plupy  was  so  unused  to  praise  that  these 
fulsome  compliments  quite  smoothed  down  his 
ruffled  plumage  and  he  so  far  unbent  as  to  say: 

"Of  course,  fellers,  I  don't  want  to  be  mean 

273 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

about  it,  and  if  you  fellers  want  to  get  off  any 
blob,  why  I  ain't  stoppin'  you,"  whereupon  he 
was  at  once  voted  a  brick,  and  a  discussion  be 
gan  over  a  question  of  precedence. 

And  here  again  trouble  arose.  Fatty  claimed 
precedence  as  the  biggest,  the  oldest,  and  the 
best  fighter. 

Bug  admitted  Fatty's  right  to  the  first  and 
second  qualifications  but  scoffed  vigorously  at 
the  third.  Whack  claimed  that  he  was  in  the 
first  class  in  the  grammar  school,  and  conse 
quently  was  entitled  to  first  place,  but  Puzzy 
said  that  Whack  was  most  always  at  the  foot  of 
his  class,  and  he  guessed  Whack  couldn't  brag 
much  anyway. 

Tomtit,  the  swiftest  runner,  moved  that  the 
question  be  settled  by  a  foot-race,  which  motion 
was  voted  down  vivissima  voce. 

Fatty  advocated  an  adjudication  by  wager  of 
battle,  a  motion  rejected  by  a  majority  vote. 
Bug  dissenting  vigorously. 

Bug  suggested  "plugging  rocks  at  a  mark,"  in 
which  he  had  really  superlative  skill,  but  this 
274 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

proposition  shared  the  fate  of  the  others. 

Doc  proposed  putting  it  to  a  vote,  which  was 
promptly  done,  but  as  each  boy  voted  for  him 
self,  no  satisfactory  conclusion  was  reached. 

Finally,  as  no  amicable  solution  appeared 
possible,  Beany  proposed  a  joint  debate  in 
which  everyone  could  take  part.  As  this  sugges 
tion  appealed  to  the  combative  disposition  of 
every  boy  there,  it  was  hailed  with  acclaim,  and 
a  choice  of  subjects  was  proposed  to  be  at  once 
made  in  writing. 

Plupy  suggested  "whitch  can  lick  Scotty  Brig- 
ham  or  Stubby  Gooch?" 

Whack:  "Whitch  can  kick  a  football  the  hy- 
est,  Chitter  Robinson  or  Kibo  Marston?" 

Beany:  "Which  can  trot  the  fastest,  Charles 
Toles'  Nelly  or  Levi  Toles'  Johnny  Roach?" 

Fatty:  "Which  can  squert  the  furtherest  the 
fountain  or  the  torent?" 

Plupy  created  some  surprise  by  further  sug 
gesting:  "Whitch  settled  Exeter  ferst,  John 
Whealrite  or  John  Quinzy  Ann  Pollard?" 

Whereupon  WThack,  not  to  be  outdone  in  a 
275 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

reputation  for  historical  research,  proposed: 
"Whitch  was  rite,  the  Ferst  or  the  Secont  Con- 
grigationeral  Chirch?" 

Now,  as  might  have  been  expected,  each  boy 
obstinately  stood  for  his  own  subject  and  flatly 
declined  to  consider  any  other.  And  so,  after 
what  bid  fair  to  be  an  interminable  and  vituper 
ative  wrangle  between  the  boys,  Doc  suggested 
an  entirely  different  one,  which  had  for  years 
challenged  the  brightest  minds  of  the  rural  de 
bating  clubs : 

"Whitch  is  the  mitier,  the  pen  or  the  sword?" 

After  some  grumbling,  this  was  assented  to, 
and  Fatty,  as  permanent  chairman,  selected  the 
following  disputants  and  officers. 

For  the  sword,  Doc,  Bug,  Plupy.  For  the 
pen,  Whack,  Beany,  Puzzy.  Chairman,  Fatty. 
Referee,  Tomtit. 

On  the  evening  of  the  debate  it  was  evident 
that  a  battle  royal  was  to  be  waged. 

Each  boy  bore  himself  with  a  sort  of  chip-on- 
the-shoulder  air,  and  was  apparently  loaded  to 
the  muzzle  with  technical  information  calcu- 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

lated  to  blow  the  opposition  into  infinitesimal 
smithereens.  Likewise,  the  gorgeousness  of 
their  neckties,  and  the  brilliancy  of  their  boots 
astounded  the  beholder  not  a  little. 

At  7  P.  M.  Fatty  ponderously  made  the  fol 
lowing  announcement.  "Fellers,  the  subject  this 
evenin'  is  a  debate,  which  is  the  mightiest  the 
pen  or  the  sword?  Now  I  have  wrote  some 
rules  so  you  fellers  won't  get  fighting  and  every 
thing  will  be  fair." 

"Rule   i.  No  calling  of  each  other  liers. 

"Rule  2.  No  plugging  of  spit  balls  aloud. 

"Rule  3.  No  2  fellers  can  debait  to  onct. 

"Rule  4.  Every  feller  has  got  to  stop  talking 
when  the  chairman  tells  him  to,  and  keep  still 
two. 

"Rule  5.   I  am  the  chairman. 

"The  first  feller  which  is  in  favor  of  the 
sword  will  now  speak.  Time!" 

At  the  call  of  time  Billy  Swett  stepped  forth 
bowed,  grinned,  and  began  a  masterly  argu 
ment. 

"Fellers,  the  sword  is  mightier  than  the  pen. 
277 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Why?  because  it  is  longer,  and  bigger  round, 
and  has  a  handle  to  grab  it  with.  Course  it  is 
mightier.  I  should  think  any  feller  would  know 
that.  When  brave  Horatias  held  the  bridge, 
what  did  he  do  it  with — a  pen?  Well,  I  guess 
not  bad.  How  long  could  he  have  stood  against 
the  three  fellers  that  come  at  him  ?  What  did  he 
hit  the  great  lord  of  Luna  with?  Did  he  jab 
him  with  a  pen?  No,  you  bet  he  didn't,  he 
pasted  him  a  good  one  with  his  sword,  and  he 
had  to  pull  three  times  before  he  could  get  it 
out.  He  had  to  put  his  foot  on  his  gozzle  and 
pull  like  time. 

"Sposen  he  had  jabbed  him  with  a  pen, I  guess 
it  would  have  come  out  easy.  And  where  would 
he  have  been? 

"Then,  again,  a  sword  is  made  of  steel  and 
until  a  little  while  ago  pens  were  made  of  goose 
feathers.  Did  any  of  you  fellers  ever  see  a 
sword  made  of  a  goose  feather,  or  a  hen  feath 
er,  or  a  turkey  feather  or  any  sort  of  a  feather? 
Huh,  I  guess  not!" 

Vigorous  applause  from  the  adherents  of  the 
278 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

sword  greeted  him,  mingled  with  groans  and 
hisses  from  the  pen  sympathizers,  and  Doc  took 
his  seat,  mopping  his  brow. 

No  sooner  was  quiet  restored  than  Whack 
rose  with  dignity,  while  Bug  bobbed  up  as  buoy 
antly  as  a  cock. 

"Fellers,"  he  yelled,  "Doc  is  all  right,  and  if 
anyone  has  got  anything  to  say  let  him  step 
right  down  here  and  back  it  up." 

Bang!  Bang!  Bang!  from  the  gavel.  "Shet 
up  Bug,  'taint  your  turn." 

"Tis  too,"  insisted  Bug. 

"Taint  neither." 

"'Tis." 

"'Taint." 

"'Tis." 

"You  lie." 

"You  lie  back." 

"Mr.  Chairman,  I  rise  to  a  point  of  order," 
said  Whack  with  dignity. 

"Yah,  old  Whack,  who  said  you  didn't?" 
scoffed  Bug,  "Point  of  order,  Huh." 

"I  guess  I  can  keep  order  here  without  any  of 
279 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

your  help,  Whack,"  roared  Fatty,  purple  with 
indignation  at  what  he  considered  a  high-handed 
attempt  to  usurp  his  prerogative  as  chairman. 
"If  you've  got  anything  to  say,  say  it,  and  then 
shet  up!" 

"Fellers,"  said  Whack,  calmly  ignoring  Fat 
ty's  rudeness,  as  Bug  subsided,  shaking  his  head 
defiantly,  "Doc  don't  know  what  he's  talking 
about.  It  aint  which  is  made  of  the  strongest 
metal,  but  which  you  can  do  the  most  with. 
When  the  pilgrin  fathers  signed  the  declaration 
of  independence  they  made  the  Fourth  of  July, 
and  they  didn't  sign  it  with  a  sword,  did  they? 
No,  you  bet  they  didn't  they  signed  it  with  a 
pen.  And  if  it  hadn't  been  for  a  pen  in  the 
hands  of  them  same  pilgrin  fathers,  you 
wouldn't  have  any  Fourth  of  July,  ner  any  fire 
crackers,  ner  torpedoes,  ner  rockets,  ner  red 
lights,  ner  nothin.' 

(Terrific  applause  from  the  men  of  the  pen, 
and  amazed  silence  on  the  other  side  of  the 
house). 

"Then  again,"  resumed  Whacker,  "when 
280 


'•a 


g 

* 


£ 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Abraham  Lincoln  signed  the  emancipation  proc 
lamation,  he  freed  the  nigger  slaves,  millions  of 
them,  and  they  keep  the  pen  he  signed  it  with 
in  Washington.  And  where  would  them  nig 
gers  been  if  he  had  tried  to  sign  it  with  a 
sword?  Where  would  they  been,  I  say?" 

And  Whacker  retired  triumphantly,  conscious 
of  having  scored  heavily. 

But  Bug  was  equal  to  the  emergency,  and 
burst  into  his  argument  with  explosive  force. 

"Fellers,  Whack  says  the  Pilgrin  Fathers 
signed  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Who 
said  they  didn't?  What  if  they  did?  They  had 
to  fight  for  it  afterwards,  didn't  they?  Sposen 
they  hadn't  done  nothing  while  the  revolution 
was  goin'  on  but  keep  signing  declarations  of 
independence,  while  old  Cornwallis  and  Beni- 
dick  Arnold,  and  King  George  and  Mark  An 
thony  and  those  fellers  had  been  whacking  their 
heads  off  with  swords,  where  would  Cotton 
Mather  and  Giles  Corey  and  Captain  John 
Smith  and  George  Washington  been  then,  say 
I." 

283 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

(Tremendous  applause  by  Bug's  adherents). 

"An5  it  was  jest  so  when  Lincoln  signed  the 
emancipation  proclamation.  Did  that  free  the 
niggers?  What  was  General  Grant,  and  Sher 
man,  and  Sheridan,  and  General  Marston  and 
Beany's  father  and  Kibo  Marston  doing  then? 
Was  they  signing  proclamations?  Well,  I  guess 
not  much !  They  was  pasting  round  lively  with 
their  swords.  Where  would  Hiram  Mingo, 
and  Gran  Miller  and  old  man  Cuttler  and  Nig 
ger  Tash  been  if  it  wasn't  for  them?  They 
would  be  picking  cotton  or  shinnin'  up  trees  to 
get  out  of  the  reach  of  blood  hounds,  'n  Whack 
knows  it,  if  he  knows  anything." 

The  applause  that  greeted  this  brilliant  argu 
ment  showed  only  too  plainly  that  the  carefully 
gathered  historical  data  of  the  scholarly  Whack 
were  discredited  by  even  his  own  adherents. 

But  he  had  a  worthy  champion,  for  scarcely 
had  Bug  concluded,  when  Beany  popped  up, 
rampant. 

"Fellers,  what  Whack  said  about  the  pen 
was  right.  I  don't  care  what  Bug  says.  You 
284 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

know  old  Seth  Tanner.  Well,  old  Seth  he  had  a 
pig  pen  down  on  South  street,  and  it  smelt  so 
bad  that  it  stunk  everybody  out  of  the  neigh 
borhood.  Most  everybody  had  to  move  away, 
and  those  that  didn't,  got  typhoid  fever  and 
died.  Well,  one  day  old  Seth  got  drunk  and  got 
an  old  army  sword  and  started  to  clean  out  the 
town,  and  old  Kimball  Thurston,  Medo's  fath 
er,  grabbed  him  and  slapped  his  mouth,  and 
took  away  his  sword  and  ducked  him  in  the 
horse  trough  until  he  promised  to  keep  quiet. 
Now  what  did  the  sword  amount  to?  Nothin'. 
What  did  the  pig  pen  amount  to?  It  killed 
everyone  in  the  neighborhood  and  drove  out  all 
the  rest.  Which  was  the  mightiest  there? 
Whatcher  got  to  say  about  it  now?" 

Instantly  Doc,  Bug  and  Plupy  were  on  their 
feet  protesting,  and  shouts  of — "Mr.  Chairman 
— point  of  order — we  aint — shet  up,  Plupy  has 
the  floor.  Aw  now,  fellers — bang!  bang!  bang! 
somebody  '11  get  punched,  'smy  turn,  aint  talk 
ing  about  pig  pens, — cheat!  cheat!  we  are  too— 
bang!  bang!  bang! — shet  up,  I  tell  you,  Plupy 

285 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

got  up  first,  listen  to  Plupy,  bang !  bang !  bang ! 

After  awhile  the  chairman  restored  order, 
and  the  justly  indignant  Plupy  shouted,  u'Taint 
fair,  Beany,  we  aint  debatin'  about  pig  pens, 
ner  calf  pens,  ner  hen  pens,  but  pens  you  write 
with,  and — " 

Here  Puzzy  jumped  to  his  feet  and  objected, 
claiming  that  Plupy  ought  to  address  the  chair 
man  and  not  argue  with  a  fellow-member,  but 
was  in  turn  interrupted  by  Whack,  who  again 
arose  to  a  point  of  order,  to  Fatty's  almost 
speechless  indignation. 

"I  tell  ye  I  can  keep  order  without — Mr. 
Chairman,  I  move — aw  now  shet  up,  Whack — 
and  Plupy  don't  know  nothin' — I  have  the — 
bang !  bang ! — liar  and  you  know — put  it  to  vote 
— order — cheat — cheaj: — shct  up — order !" 

Finally  Fatty  succeeded  in  putting  Plupy's 
motion  and  called  for  the  yeas  and  nays. 

"Ain't  yer  goin'  to  'low  us  to  argue  on  the 

motion?"  shouted  Bug.     But  Fatty  ruled  with 

adamantine  firmness  against  further  argument, 

and  again  called  for  the  yeas  and  nays,  where- 

286 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

upon  Whack,  Beany  and  Puzzy  loudly  voted 
"Aye!"  and  Doc,  Bug  and  Plupy  fairly 
screeched  "No!"  upon  which  a  tie  vote  was 
declared  and  Bedlam  again  broke  loose. 

"Vote  again — doubted — Fatty  can't  count- 
leave  it  to — fraud — who's  a  liar? — You  aint 
man  enough — Yah,  Yah, — don't  dass  to — shet 
up — won't — seddown — can't  make  me — bang! 
bang!  bang! 

After  a  few  minutes  turmoil  the  chairman  se 
cured  a  temporary  lull,  and  referred  the  mat 
ter  to  Tomtit  as  Referee,  who,  although  utter 
ly  in  the  dark  as  to  the  strict  meaning  of  the 
motion,  promptly  decided  against  the  admission 
of  the  pig  pen  as  an  element  of  might,  to  the 
great  delight  of  the  sword-bearers. 

The  debaters  were  called  upon  to  proceed, 
and  Plupy  arose  and  zealously  sailed  in. 

"Fellers,  what  was  old  Kempenfelt  doin' 
when  the  Royal  George  was  tipped  over  and 
sunk?  Was  he  a  tendin'  to  business  as  he  had 
ought  to  have  been?  No,  he  wasn't,  and  you 
fellers  all  know  it,  because  you  have  all  read  it 

287 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

in  the  school  reader  and  most  of  you  have  spoke 
it. 

'His  sword  was  in  its  sheath, 
His  fingers  held  the  pen 
When  Kempenfelt  went  down 
With  twice  four  hundred  men.' 

If  old  Kempenfelt  had  been  'tendin'  to  busi 
ness,  and  had  been  up  on  deck  with  his  sword  in 
his  hand  ready  to  lam  time  out  of  any  sailor 
which  wasn't  doin'  his  duty,  he  might  have  been 
sailin'  round  now.  Instead  of  that  he  was  down 
in  the  cabin  foolin'  round  with  a  pen,  writin'  to 
his  girl  perhaps,  and  his  old  ship  went  down 
just  because  he  wasn't  lookin'  out  for  things  as 
he  ought  to  have  been."  And  Plupy  sat  down 
conscious  of  having  made  a  decided  hit.  He  was 
followed  by  Puzzy,  who  exchanged  a  few  light 
aspersions  with  his  brother,  Bug,  and  was  repri 
manded  by  the  chairman,  which  disturbed  him 
so  little  that  he  merely  made  a  hideous  face  at 
that  functionary  before  beginning  the  closing 
288 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

argument  of  the  day. 

"Fellers  and  Mister  Chairman.  I  have  lis 
tened  to  Bug's  argument  with  surprise,  because 
I  thought  Bug  knew  something.  It  was  the 
foolishest  argument  I  ever  heard  in  my  life 
(here  Bug  arose  glowering  balefully)  except 
Plupy's.  (Here  Plupy  turned  scarlet  and 
squirmed  in  his  seat).  Where  would  your 
books  and  your  newspapers  and  your  schools  be 
if  it  wasn't  for  the  pen?  (Yah,  books  aint  writ- 
in'  with  a  pen,"  scornfully  shouted  Bug,  "they 
are  printed.")  (What  about  a  pencil  too," 
sneered  Plupy) .  That  shows  that  neither  Bug 
nor  Plupy  knows  anything  more  about  it  than 
Doc,  who  don't  know  anything  at  all  about  it. 
("I  aint  goin'  to  take  such  sass  as  that  from  any 
body,"  said  the  ordinarily  quiet  Billy  Swett, 
arising  and  peeling  his  jacket  and  spitting  on 
his  hands,  in  preparation  for  laying  violent 
hands  on  Puzzy) . 

"Nor  me  neither,"  declared  Bug,  "casting  his 
hat  into  the  ring  and  essaying  to  follow  it." 

"I'm  in  this  too,"  declared  Whack,  a  warlike 
289 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

gleam  in  his  eye. 

Bang!  bang!  bang!  went  the  gavel,  but  again 
discordant  voices  arose. 

"Take  it  back — I  won't — 'taint  fair — shet  up 
— Rule  i — who  cares  for  your  old  rules — he'd 
no  business  to — no  interruption — aint  goin'  to 
take  no  sass — bang !  bang !  Aw,  come  on  fellers 
Plupy's  father'll  be  down — oh  shet  up — come 
out  doors — don't  dass  to — ." 

"Finally,  warlike  demonstrations  were 
quelled,  but  Puzzy  refused  to  go  on  unless  he 
could  say  first  what  he  wished,  and  the  Referee 
was  placed  in  the  embarrassing  position  of  ren 
dering  a  decision  that  was  bound  to  be  equally 
unpopular,  whichever  way  the  decision  went. 
However,  deeming  promptness  a  virtue,  he  at 
once  decided  in  favor  of  the  sword,  whereupon 
raucous  contumely  was  showered  upon  him  by 
Whack,  Beany  and  Puzzy. 

"Yah,  you  always  decide  in  favor  of  Billy 
Swett  because  he  has  got  a  horse  and  a  gun," 
sneered  Puzzy. 

"You  just  wait  'till  you  come  up  to  my  house 
290 


"Help  yourself,  fellers," 
said  Plupy 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

again,  see  if  you  get  any  apples,"  said  Whack. 

uYou  wouldn't  have  dassed  to  decide  against 
us  if  Dennis  Cokely  was  on  our  side,"  affirmed 
Beany,  referring  to  a  recent  fight  in  which  Tom 
tit  was  reported  to  have  been  worsted. 

"That's  mean,"  said  Doc. 

"He  can  lick  you,  Beany,  and  you  too  Puz," 
declared  Bug  with  emphasis. 

"Help  yourselfs  fellers,"  said  Plupy,  bring 
ing  forth  a  pitcher  of  sweetened  water  and  a 
huge  tray  piled  with  apples  and  doughnuts. 

And  white-winged  peace  descending,  brooded 
over  the  battlefield. 


293 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


"Please,  ma'am  kin  I  have  suthin'  for  Thanksgivin'  ?" 


i 


approach  of  Thanksgiving, 
opened  up  a  dazzling  prospect  of 
mince,  apple,  squash  and  pumpkin 
pie,  chicken,  turkey,  roast  pig, 
roast  goose,  nuts,  raisins  ad  libi 
tum,  to  our  friends  Pewt,  Beany,  Plupy,  Fatty, 
Bug,  Whack,  Puzzy  and  others,  who  had  on 
ordinary  occasions  displayed  appetites  of  most 
unusual  and  extraordinary  proportions. 

The  expectations  of  these  lively  youths  had 
been  kept  at  fever  heat  by  the  daily  home  prep 
arations  for  the  coming  event,  and  the  woefully 
infrequent  opportunities  afforded  them  of 
snatching  vi  et  armis  small  portions  of  the  raw 
materials,  such  as  nuts,  raisins,  brown  sugar, 
dried  currants,  preserved  ginger  and  mince 
meat,  and  escaping  through  holes  in  the  back 
fences  to  avoid  maternal  reprisals. 
294 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

As  each  boy  was  in  honor  bound  to  equitably 
divide  such  plunder  among  his  friends  on  penal 
ty  of  being  called  a  pig  or  a  "meany,"  the  fre 
quent  interchange  of  commodities  led  to  specu 
lations  over  the  possibility  of  anticipating  the 
event  by  a  little  dinner  of  their  own. 

It  was  a  custom  in  those  days  which  I  am 
glad  to  say  is  practically  obsolete  to-day,  at 
least  in  Exeter,  for  the  children  of  the  lower 
classes  to  spend  the  early  hours  of  the  night  be 
fore  Thanksgiving  in  going  about  the  town  beg 
ging  for  Thanksgiving  supplies.  The  house 
wife  of  the  well-to-do  class  would  be  called  to 
the  door  and  would  find  there  a  boy  or  girl  who 
would  greet  her  with  the  time  honored  request, 
"please  gimme  suthin'  for  ThanksgivinV  Some 
times  a  few  kindly  questions  would  elicit  suffi 
cient  information  to  convince  the  good  woman 
that  it  would  be  a  real  charity  to  cast  a  little 
bread  on  the  waters,  and  the  ordinary  result 
was  that  the  small  beggar  went  away  well  laden 
with  goodies.  Again  a  severe  cross-examina 
tion  would  frequently  end  in  the  headlong  flight 
295 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY'* 

of  the  mendicant  and  his  shrill  yells  of  derision 
when  at  a  safe  distance. 

This  custom  was  regarded  rather  tolerantly 
by  the  good  people  of  Exeter,  and  was  not  look 
ed  upon  strictly  as  begging  by  those  who  regu 
larly  indulged  in  it,  but  rather  as  a  fascinating 
game  of  chance.  Indeed  it  was  by  no  means  an 
uncommon  thing  for  children  of  the  better 
classes  to  yield  to  its  fascinations  and,  evading 
the  vigilance  of  their  maternal  guardians,  to  so 
licit  alms  with  a  persistence  that  in  any  good 
cause  would  have  been  most  praiseworthy,  and 
a  fertility  of  prevarication  that  was  appalling. 

With  these  shining  examples  in  mind  it  was 
not  surprising  that  our  young  friends  became  in 
terested  in  any  project  affording  the  alluring  al 
ternative  of  excitement  and  probable  gain.  And 
so  one  rainy  Saturday  afternoon  when  they 
gathered  in  Fatty's  barn  and  had  exhausted  the 
possibilities  of  "rassling,"  "knocking  off  hats," 
"punching,"  and  that  most  delightful  pastime 
known  as  "pilin'  on,"  in  which  when  one  of  two 
wrestlers  was  squarely  thrown  and  was  recum- 
296 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

bent  under  the  body  of  the  victor,  any  boy  pres 
ent  could  by  throwing  himself  on  the  bodies  of 
the  fallen  and  yelling,  "pile  on,  pile  on,"  at  once 
produce  a  confused  mound  of  squirming,  shout 
ing,  struggling  boys,  whose  combined  weight 
crushed  the  unfortunate  victim  almost  flat,  that 
the  conversation  turned  to  the  delightful  sub 
ject  of  Thanksgiving  dainties. 

"We  are  goin'  to  have  a  sixteen  pound  turkey 
at  our  house,"  quoth  Bug  boastingly.  "Huh, 
that  aint  nuthin',"  chimed  in  Pewt  disdainfully. 
"We  are  goin'  to  have  Dal  Gilmore's  big  goose 
and  he  weighs  most  twenty-five  pounds,  and 
Ivan  and  his  wife  is  coming  home." 

"Yah,  goose  for  Thanksgiving,"  snorted 
Whack,  resenting  the  implied  superiority  of 
Pewt's  household  preparations.  "Goose  is  for 
Crismas,  anybody  had  ought  to  know  that." 

"'Taint  neither,"  insisted  Pewt.  "Goose  is 
better  and  costs  more  than  turkey." 

"Dal  Gilmore's  old  goose  is  more  than  thirty 
years  old  and  tuffer'n  tripe,"  scoffed  Plupy,  not 
to  be  behind  in  the  discussion. 
297 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

"That  shows  how  much  you  know  about  it, 
old  Plupy,"  sneered  Pewt.  "A  goose  gits  ten 
derer  and  tenderer  the  longer  it  lives,  jest  like  a 
rotten  apple." 

"Well,"  concluded  Fatty  ponderously.  "You 
can  have  your  goose  if  you  want  him  but  I'd 
ruther  have  turkey  and  stufflnV 

"M-m-m,"  said  Beany,  drawing  in  his  breath 
succulently,  "jest  think  of  the  stuffin'  and 
gravy." 

"And  the  drumsticks,"  added  Puzzy,  rolling 
his  eyes  heavenward.  "And  the  wishbone  and 
a  big  piece  of  the  breast,"  gurgled  Billy  Swett. 

"And  the  gizzard  and  the  part  that  goes  over 
the  fence  last,"  shrieked  Beany,  with  height 
ened  emphasis. 

"How  many  kinds  of  pie  do  you  have,  Fat 
ty?"  queried  Plupy  of  that  plump  youth,  who 
was  regarded  as  a  bon  vivant  of  taste  and  ex 
perience. 

"Five,"  replied  Fatty  meditatively,  and  then 
enumerating  with  keen  enjoyment,  "mince,  ap 
ple,  pumpkin,  squash  and  cranberry."  "And 
298 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

pudding  too,"  he  continued  reminiscently,  "and 
nuts  and  raisins  and  figs,"  he  concluded. 

"Gosh,"  exclaimed  his  attentive  listeners  with 
one  accord. 

"Don't  it  jest  make  you  hungry  to  think  of 
it,  fellers?"  said  Puzzy,  heaving  a  sigh. 

"You  bet  it  does,"  they  responded  with  fer 
vor. 

"Do  you  know  what  Fatty  Melcher  did  last 
year?"  continued  Beany.  "He  and  Pewt  went 
begging  and  they  dressed  up  in  old  clothes  and 
they  got  a  lot  of  cookies  and  a  whole  mince  pie 
and  a  half  of  a  squash  pie  and  a  big  turnover 
and  they  went  down  back  of  Fatty's  father's 
shop  and  et  it  all." 

"Gosh,"  again  exclaimed  the  boys  as  the 
same  idea  struck  them  simultaneously,  "less  we 
fellers  go." 

"What  if  they  ketch  us?"  demanded  Plupy 
anxiously. 

"'Twont  do  any  hurt,"  said  Bug,  "everybody 
expects  somebody  round  begging  night  before 
Thanksgiving,  and  they  don't  care  much  who  it 
299 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 


is." 


"My  father  would  lam  the  stuffing  out  of 
us  fellers  if  he  should  find  it  out,"  said  Whack. 

"Fatty  can't,"  said  Beany,  "because  every 
body  would  know  him." 

"I  won't  do  it,"  said  Billy  Swett  with  deci 
sion. 

"Then  'twill  have  to  be  Pewt  or  Beany  or 
Plupy." 

"I  won't  unless  Pewt  does  too,"  announced 
Beany  decidedly. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Fatty.  "Pewt  and 
Beany  and  Plupy  can  go  Wednesday  night. 
Thanksgiving  comes  Thursday  and  we  will  meet 
here  Wednesday  night  and  eat  what  they  get." 

"Aw  now,"  scoffed  Beany.  "I  guess  you  fel 
lers  think  you  are  pretty  smart  to  get  us  to  take 
the  risk  and  do  the  work  and  then  help  us  eat  it 
up.  I  guess  not  much,  Fatty." 

"Oh,  come  now,"  said  Whack.    "What  is  the 

use  of  your  being  so  mean  about  it?   They  will 

know  Fatty  every  time,  he  is  so  fat,  and  they 

will  know  he  don't  need  nothin'.    If  my  father 

300 


^ 

?^ 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

hadn't  said  he  would  lick  us  if  he  ever  heard  of 
our  going  out  begging  we  would  do  it.  Your 
father  hasn't  never  said  he  would  lick  you  for  it 
Plupy,  has  he?  Or  yours  neither  Pewt,  or  yours, 
Beany." 

The  boys  addressed  admitted  that  no  such 
injunction  had  been  laid  on  them,  but  sagely 
opined  that  paternal  relations  might  be  a  trifle 
strained  in  the  event  of  their  detection,  where 
upon  the  other  boys  loudly  reassured  them. 

"Course  your  father  wouldn't  be  mean 
enough  to  lick  you  when  they  hadn't  never  told 
you  not  to  do  it,"  asserted  Pile  Wood.  "I  tell 
you,  Whack,"  said  Fatty,  in  audible  tones  aside 
to  that  gentleman.  "It  takes  a  pile  of  pluck  to 
do  it.  Plupy  and  Beany  and  Pewt  is  jest  the  fel 
lers  to  do  it." 

"Aw  come  on  now,  Plupy,"  said  Bug,  ujest 
think  what  fun  it  will  be.  You  can  lie  so  good 
too,"  he  continued. 

uHuh,"  said  Plupy,  plainly  pleased  at  the 
flattering  words.  "I  can't  lie  so  good  as  Pewt. 
He  can  lie  jest  bully,  and  Beany  can  too." 

303 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

( 

And  so  after  much  urging  and  specious  flat 
tery,  the  three  worthies,  Plupy,  Beany  and  Pewt 
were  persuaded  to  undertake  the  task,  upon  the 
other  boys'  promise  to  go  with  them  and  hang 
round  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  houses  they 
were  to  favor  with  their  patronage.  This  lat 
ter  arrangement  was  a  suggestion  of  Fatty's, 
who  evidently  distrusted  the  generosity  of  the 
three  in  an  impartial  division  of  the  spoil. 

The  agreement  so  pleased  that  luxurious 
youth  that  in  order  to  show  his  appreciation  of 
their  noble  conduct,  he  tip-toed  into  the  kitchen 
and  in  the  absence  of  the  cook  successfully  raid 
ed  the  pantry  and  brought  away  a  squash  pie 
and  about  a  peck  of  doughnuts  stuffed  into  his 
pockets,  which  he  distributed  with  the  utmost 
impartiality. 

The  next  Wednesday  evening  just  after  sup 
per  the  boys  met  as  per  agreement  at  Fatty's 
barn  and  arranged  for  a  plan  of  the  campaign. 
It  was  deemed  advisable  that  the  initial  demand 
should  be  made  at  the  house  of  one  William 
Morrill,  a  most  worthy  and  kindhearted  citizen, 
304 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

whose  only  failing  was  a  belief  that  every  man, 
and  in  fact  every  boy,  was  as  honest  as  he. 

Straws  were  drawn  for  first  chance,  and 
Plupy,  always  unlucky  in  games  of  chance,  drew 
the  shortest  straw,  and  in  high  spirits  the  boys 
shinned  over  the  fence  and  out  through  Elm  to 
Court  street,  where  the  old  gentleman  lived  with 
his  sister,  old  Mother  Moulton,  the  best  na- 
tured,  talkative  old  soul  in  the  town. 

Plupy,  urged  on  by  his  friends,  approached 
the  door  with  much  diffidence,  and  in  answer  to 
his  timid  knock  the  door  opened  and  disclosed 
the  ample  figure  and  wrinkled  face  of  the  old 
lady,  peering  at  him  through  her  iron  rimmed 
spectacles. 

"Please  gimme  suthin'  fer  Thanksgiving?" 
stammered  Plupy,  pulling  his  hat  down  over 
his  eyes,  while  a  row  of  heads  peered  over  the 
board  fence  of  the  school  house  yard,  awaiting 
with  much  anxiety  the  result  of  negotiations. 

"Why,  bless  your  soul,  you  poor  little  boy. 
Come  in,  come  right  in,"  said  the  kind  old  lady, 
vigorously  hooking  the  dismayed  Plupy,  who 
305 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

tried  to  escape,  into  the  room. 

"Now,  my  poor  boy,  tell  me  all  about  it,"  she 
continued,  "and  take  off  your  hat,  it  isn't  polite 
to  keep  your  hat  on  in  the  house,  didn't  you 
know  that?" 

Thus  urged,  the  desperate  Plupy  shamefaced 
ly  removed  his  hat,  and  as  he  was  perfectly 
well  known  to  the  old  lady,  she  instantly  recog 
nized  him. 

"Sakes  alive,  Harry  Shute,  if  it  ain't  you. 
What  in  the  world  are  you  up  to  such  doin's  as 
this  for?"  she  demanded  sternly. 

Now  if  Plupy  had  told  her  frankly  she  would 
have  laughed  and  let  him  go,  but  abashed  at  his 
position  and  somewhat  terrified  at  her  sternness, 
he  unfortunately  tried  to  lie  out  of  it. 

"We  aint  goin'  to  have  any  Thanksgiving 
at  our  house,"  he  said  sadly.  "We  aint  goin'  to 
have  no  turkey,  nor  mince  pie,  nor  nothin'." 

"For  massy  sakes,  child,  what  is  the  matter? 
Is  anyone  sick,"  snapped  the  old  lady,  on  fire 
with  philanthropic  zeal. 

"No  marm,"  said  Plupy,  with  a  sigh,  "no- 
306 


"Sakes  alive,  Harry  Shute, 
if  it  aint  you"  said  old 
Mother  Moulton 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

body  is  sick,  but  father  has  lost  his  place  in  the 
Custom  House,  and  we  can't  afford  any  turkey." 

"What,  George  Shute  lost  his  place,  and  with 
a  wife  and  seven  children  to  support!  I  don't 
wonder  you  feel  pretty  bad  about  it.  Does  your 
mother  know  you  are  begging?" 

uNo  marm,  she  wouldn't  like  it,  but  I  thought 
if  I  could  get  a  nice  chicken  or  a  nice  mince  pie, 
I  could  leave  it  in  the  pantry,  and  perhaps  she 
might  think  she  had  made  it." 

"Well,  Harry  Shute,  I  allus  did  think  you 
was  a  no-account  sort  of  boy,  but  you  have  got 
a  kind  heart,  a  kind  heart,"  quavered  the  old 
lady,  wiping  her  eyes  on  the  corner  of  her 
apron.  "I'm  going  right  straight  down  to  your 
house  and  see  your  poor  dear  mother,"  she 
continued,  greatly  to  Plupy's  discomfiture,  who 
knew  that  interesting  developments  would  re 
sult  from  her  visit. 

"I  don't  believe  mother  could  see  you  to-night 
for  she  went  to  bed  with  a  awful  headache," 
said  Plupy,  lying  desperately  and  shamelessly. 

"Well,  well,  well,"  said  the  old  lady,  "they 
309 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

are  going  to  have  an  awful  hard  time  now. 
Hum,  hum,"  she  continued  as  she  packed  two 
mince  pies  neatly  in  paper,  and  filled  a  paper 
bag  with  cookies,  and  urged  them  upon  the 
shrinking  Plupy,  as  with  many  kind  words  of 
encouragement  she  led  him  out  and  closed  the 
door  behind  him,  and  returning  for  her  shawl 
and  bonnet,  made  a  hurried  round  of  visits 
through  the  neighborhood,  freely  imparting  the 
information  that  George  Shute  had  lost  his 
place  in  the  Boston  Custom  House,  and  what 
he  would  do  to  support  a  wife  and  seven  chil 
dren  she  for  her  part  couldn't  imagine,  and 
what  was  going  to  become  of  them  all  she  didn't 
for  the  life  'o  her  know. 

Upon  his  return  to  the  boys,  Plupy  was  great^ 
ly  troubled  over  the  magnitude  of  his  lies,  but 
the  reassuring  flattery  of  the  boys  and  the  appe 
tizing  smell  of  the  provender  soon  put  him  at 
his  ease. 

Pewt  having  drawn  the  middle  straw  next 
applied  at  the  house  of  George  Smith  on  Elliott 
street.  Unfortunately  Pewt  was  of  so  ambi- 
310 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

tious  a  nature  as  to  desire  above  all  things  to  tell 
a  bigger  story  than  Plupy  had,  and  as  he  was 
not  recognized  by  Mrs.  Smith  he  began  to  pour 
out  a  pitiful  story  of  how  his  father  and  two 
sisters  were  down  with  the  small  pox,  and  was 
elaborating  further  and  harrowing  particulars, 
when  he  was  told  to  leave  or  she  would  have 
him  arrested,  the  door  was  slammed  in  his  face 
with  great  violence,  and  a  few  minutes  later  a 
wild-eyed  woman  with  a  shawl  over  her  head 
was  acquainting  the  neighborhood  that  small 
pox  of  the  most  virulent  type  had  broken  out  in 
town  and  they  were  all  likely  to  take  it  before 
the  week  was  over,  and  that  everybody  must 
take  belladonna  and  fumigate  their  houses  at 
once,  and  what  would  happen  next  she  for  her 
part  didn't  know. 

The  boys  were  somewhat  depressed  at  the 
barren  results  of  Pewt's  first  trial,  but  at  the 
next  place,  Mr.  John  Kelley's,  having  concocted 
an  equally  pitiful  but  less  dangerous  recital  of 
a  poor  father  dying  with  consumption,  he  so 
excited  the  kind  hearted  hostess  that  he  came 
3" 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

away  with  a  whole  roast  chicken  and  an  apple 
pie. 

It  was  now  Beany's  turn  and  at  the  first  place 
he  applied  he  invented  a  wholly  original  story. 
As  he  was  not  recognized,  he  took  the  oppor 
tunity  of  representing  himself  as  the  son  of  a 
beloved  pastor  of  the  Second  Congregational 
Church,  and  to  disarm  suspicion,  further  in 
formed  her  with  engaging  frankness  that  his 
father  had  not  been  paid  any  salary  since  May, 
and  that  they  couldn't  have  any  Thanksgiving. 

Now  as  this  good  woman  was  an  ardent  sup 
porter  of  the  First  Church  of  the  same  denomi 
nation,  and  inasmuch  as  veiled  but  bitter  rivalry 
had  for  years  existed  between  the  two  churches, 
she  lost  no  time  after  she  had  dismissed  "the 
pastor's  little  son"  laden  with  good  things,  in 
putting  on  her  shawl  and  acquainting  the  promi 
nent  members  of  the  church  that  the  pastor  of 
the  Second  Church  was  actually  in  need  of  the 
necessities  of  life,  that  his  salary  hadn't  been 
paid  for  a  year,  and  that  for  her  part  she  should 
think  that  people  who  held  their  heads  so  high 
312 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

as  the  Second  Church  people  had  better  pay 
their  minister  That  she  always  thought  they 
were  upstarts  and  that  now  she  knew  it. 

Now  while  the  boys,  affluent  in  dainties,  were 
hugely  enjoying  their  feast  in  the  rear  of  Fatty's 
barn,  the  most  sinister  rumors  were  flying 
through  the  little  town,  to  the  effect  that  George 
Shute  had  lost  his  place  in  the  Boston  Custom 
House  under  very  suspicious  circumstances,  that 
several  cases  of  small  pox  had  been  discovered 
and  that  one  or  two  deaths  had  already  oc 
curred;  and  of  the  extremely  humiliating  posi 
tion  in  which  the  pastor  of  the  Second  Church 
was  placed  by  the  inability  of  the  parish  to  meet 
the  demands  upon  it. 

Three  such  disquieting  rumors  were  sufficient 
to  stir  the  whole  community  to  a  boiling  heat, 
and  great  was  the  amazement  of  Plupy's  father 
the  next  day  at  receiving  many  visits  of  con 
dolence  from  his  friends,  all  of  whom  had  al 
ready  sent  in  written  applications  for  the  sup 
posedly  vacant  office. 

And  great  was  the  annoyance  of  the  pastor  of 

313 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

the  Second  Church,  a  most  independent  and 
high  minded  gentleman,  at  receiving  many  do 
nations  and  offers  of  financial  aid  from  members 
of  the  alien  congregation. 

But  the  feelings  of  the  harassed  and  much 
abused  selectmen  after  spending  the  early  hours 
of  the  forenoon  in  trying  vainly  to  locate  the 
infected  district,  and  to  suitably  fumigate  and 
e"ffectually  quarantine  the  same,  were  beyond 
language  vitriolic  enough  for  adequate  expres 
sion. 

Indeed  for  a  long  time  the  source  of  the  in 
formation  was  unknown,  but  the  promised  visit 
of  good  Mother  Moulton  gave  the  first  clue  to 
the  elder  Shute,  who  promptly  acting  on  this 
clue  elicited  from  the  terrified  Plupy  sufficient 
information  to  implicate  Pewt  and  Beany  and 
they  with  their  respective  fathers  were  promptly 
summoned  to  a  conference,  at  which  the  full  na 
ture  of  their  atrocious  doings  was  divulged. 

It  is  doubtful  if  those  three  miscreants  ever 
spent  a  more  unhappy  day.  That  they  lost  their 
Thanksgiving  dinner,  which  they  had  for  weeks 
3H 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

looked  forward  to  was  bad  enough,  but  to  be 
obliged  to  spend  the  greater  part  of  that  day 
accompanied  by  irate  parents,  in  making  reiter 
ated  apologies  and  explanations  to  their  victims 
and  the  friends  to  whom  they  had  imparted  the 
information  gained,  was  bitterness  itself,  and 
the  sound  and  deserved  thrashings  they  each 
and  everyone  received  formed  the  culminating 
tragedy  of  a  sorrowful  and  memorable  day. 

And  as  the  three  fathers,  weary  but  triumph 
ant,  separated  after  their  energetic  search  for 
the  truth,  they  repeated  to  each  other  the  fa 
miliar  and  oft  quoted  words,  "Did  you  ever  see 
such  cussed  boys?" 


317 


CHAPTER  XF1I 


With  the  view  of  possible  Christmas  contingencies  the 
boys  became  deeply  and  widely  religious. 


i 


Christmas    holidays    were    now 
nearly   at   hand.      It   had  been   a 
snowless  fall;    skating    had    been 
good,  so  good  indeed  that  the  boys 
had  almost  tired  of  it.    Indeed  the 
hockey  games  played  in  the  school  yard  were 
fully  as  interesting  as  and  much  more  prolific  in 
scrimmages  than  ice  hockey. 

But  Christmas  was  in  the  near  future  and 
that  particular  holiday  was  the  burden  of  their 
thoughts  by  day  and  dreams  by  night.  How  to 
make  the  most  of  that  holiday  was  the  scheme 
to  which  all  the  ingenuity  of  their  active  minds 
turned. 

One  morning  shortly  after  Thanksgiving,  the 
elder  Shute,  father  of  our  friend  Plupy,  slowly 
descended  the  steps  of  his  modest  habitation, 

318 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

pulling  thoughtfully  on  a  cigar,  which  showed 
an  irritating  propensity  to  burn  up  on  one  side. 
It  was  a  crisp  and  quiet  Sabbath  morning,  and 
that  gentleman,  having  seen  his  numerous  fami 
ly  troop  off  to  church,  wended  his  way  medita 
tively  towards  one  of  his  favorite  Sunday  re 
treats,  the  paint  shop  of  his  neighbor,  "Brad" 
Purinton,  father  of  a  certain  co-miscreant  of 
Plupy,  known  as  Pewt. 

As  he  entered  that  warm  and  cosy  retreat  he 
found  the  worthy  Bradbury  sitting  in  a  rush- 
bottomed  chair  and  smoking  a  most  virulent 
clay  pipe.  His  coat,  laid  aside,  disclosed  the 
sleeves  of  his  snowy  Sunday  shirt,  while  his 
feet,  ordinarily  encased  in  stout  leather  boots 
with  much  wrinkled  legs,  were  now  ornate  in 
gaudy-colored  carpet  slippers.  Opposite  him 
sat  the  trim  looking  gentleman  who  boasted  the 
distinguished  paternity  of  the  sinful  Beany, 
smoking  a  meerschaum  with  silver  trimmings 
and  flecking  the  dust  from  polished  boots  with  a 
snowy  handkerchief. 

The  room  contained  the  assortment  of  arti- 
319 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY'* 

cles  peculiar  to  a  paint  shop.  The  walls  and 
doors,  on  which  painters  had  tried  their 
brushes,  were  daubed  with  many  colored  paints 
and  presented  the  red,  orange,  yellow,  green, 
blue,  indigo  and  violet  of  the  rainbow,  while 
colored  lithographs  of  Dolly  Bidewell,  Morris 
Brothers'  Minstrels,  Comical  Brown,  and 
Washburn's  Grand  Sensation,  were  pasted 
thereon.  Scattered  around  the  room  were  wood 
en  buckets  of  paint  and  oil,  with  half  submerged 
brushes  and  stirring  sticks  projecting  from 
them,  greasy  papers  of  putty  and  casks  of  white 
lead,  while  across  one  side  of  the  shop  appeared 
a  long  board  supported  on  barrels,  covered  with 
rolls  of  wall  paper  and  broad  brushes,  under 
which  board  stood  a  pail  of  flour  paste. 

By  the  window  stood  a  carpenter's  bench 
with  a  wooden  vise  clamped  at  its  side,  while  in 
a  wall-rack  were  bit  and  bitstock,  spokeshaves, 
chisels,  screwdrivers,  hand  and  whipsaws,  sand 
paper,  calipers  and  paint  brushes,  dry  and  stiff 
with  ancient  dust  and  lead. 

Evidences  of  a  flourishing  business  were  in 
320 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

sight.  On  a  rack  in  front  of  the  stove  stood  a 
long  and  very  brilliant  sign  of  bright  blue  sand 
ed  ground,  and  golden  letters  which  informed 
the  public  that  "W.  I.  Goods,  and  Groceries" 
were  to  be  had  at  lowest  prices. 

In  the  back  of  the  shop  a  pair  of  wheels  in 
sober  garb  of  dull  blue  priming,  patiently 
awaited  the  bright  paint,  gaudy  stripes  and  daz 
zling  gold  leaf  destined  for  them. 

In  the  place  of  honor  on  the  wall  hung  a  most 
patriotic  and  soul  stirring  creation,  the  chef 
d'oeuvre  of  the  artist,  in  which  a  most  astonish 
ingly  pigeon-breasted  young  lady,  clad  in  little 
but  the  hectic  flush  of  crimson  lake,  held  aloft 
with  powerful  and  ruddy-tinted  hand  a  glowing 
banner  of  red,  white  and  blue,  with  folds  admir 
ably  even  and  measured  as  if  by  calipers,  while 
at  her  side,  with  out-stretched  wings,  a  glorious 
and  jointless  eagle,  holding  jagged  lightning  in 
his  claws,  shrieked  aloud,  but  whether  in  defi 
ance  or  horror  the  artist  had  neglected  to  state. 

"Hullo,  George,"  slowly  drawled  Pewt's 
father,  pushing  forward  an  old  chair  with  board 

323 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

bottom  and  wire  bound  legs,  "you  look  glum, 
what's  wrong?  Don't  your  cigar  suit  you?" 

"Hullo,  Brad,  Hullo,  Wat,"  replied  the  fath 
er  of  Plupy.  "Cigar's  all  right.  No  worse  than 
any  of  old  Si's,"  he  added  as  he  sat  down  and 
crossed  his  legs.  'Tm  bothered  about  my  lit 
tle  boy,"  replied  Plupy's  father  thoughtfully. 

"Which  one,  George?"  inquired  Beany's 
father  with  interest,  "Frank  or  the  baby?" 

"Frankie,"  replied  Plupy's  father. 

"Whacher  call  it,  George,  croup,  chicken  pox, 
measles,  scarlet  fever  or  what?"  asked  Brad, 
opening  the  stove  door  and  putting  in  a  stick  of 
wood. 

"Got  an  abscess  on  his  back,"  replied  the  eld 
er  Shute,  "a  mighty  bad  one,  too,"  he  added. 

"Whacher  do  for  it?"  asked  Brad,  puffing  a 
cloud  of  smoke. 

"Poultices,"  replied  the  elder  Shute  concisely. 

"Too  bad,"  said  Brad. 

"That's  so,"  said  Wat. 

For  a  while  they  smoked  in  silence,  then 
Plupy's  father  threw  his  cigar  away,  leaned 
324 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

back  and  said,  "But  what  bothers  me  is  what 
my  oldest  boy  is  up  to  now?" 

"What  signals  is  he  flying?"  asked  Wat, 
who  had  contracted  nautical  expressions  from 
his  position  in  the  Portsmouth  navy  yard. 
"Can't  you  make  'em  out?" 

"No,  I  can't,  hang  me  if  I  can,"  George  re 
plied  emphatically.  "It  aint  anything  so  bad 
that  he's  doing,  only  I  like  to  be  on  my  guard, 
for  it  may  be  a  case  that  will  require  a  course  at 
the  reform  school  to  cure." 

"What  d'ye  mean?  What  does  he  do?"  they 
demanded  leaning  forward  and  removing  their 
pipes  in  their  absorbing  interest. 

"What  do  you  think  of  his  going  to  three 
Sunday  schools  at  once?"  demanded  Plupy's 
father,  leaning  back  on  the  bench  and  tilting  his 
cigar  towards  the  brim  of  his  hat. 

To  his  surprise,  both  fathers  nodded  wisely 
and  said  in  concert,  "Just  what  my  boy  is  do 
ing,"  and  Wat  added,  "Don't  you  understand 
it,  George,  three  Christmas  trees  and  three 
presents  for  good  behavior." 
325 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

UO£  course  I  understand  what  they  are  af 
ter  well  enough,"  replied  Plupy's  father,  "but 
what  I  am  thinking  about  is  the  almighty  relapse 
they  will  have  after  the  thing  is  over.  You 
know  just  how  it  is,  every  time  those  little  dev 
ils  are  good  for  a  week,  they  keep  us  in  hot 
water  for  a  month  to  even  up  things.  Aint  that 
so,  Wat?  Aint  that  so,  Brad?" 

uUm-m-huh,"  replied  Wat,  as  he  puffed  com 
fortably  at  his  pipe. 

"P'tu,"  replied  Brad,  as  he  made  a  startling 
accurate  shot  at  the  front  damper  in  the  stove. 

"And  then,"  continued  Plupy's  father,  "think 
what  a  combination !  Methodist,  Congregation 
al  and  Unitarian.  You  might  as  well  put  a 
bull-dog,  a  tom-cat  and  a  parrot  in  the  same 
box  and  expect  them  to  agree." 

"Um-m-huh,"  replied  Wat,  letting  the  blue 
smoke  curl  upwards. 

"P'tu,"  remarked  Brad,  sending  a  hissing 
shot  into  the  crackling  flames. 

"Well,"  disgustedly  continued  Plupy's  fath 
er,  "if  that's  all  you  can  say  about  it,  there  aint 
326 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

much  use  for  me  to  say  any  more.  You  remind 
one  of  a  caucus  of  paralytics,"  and  he  rose  to 
depart. 

"Um-m-huh,"  said  Wat,  thoughtfully. 

"P'tu,"  replied  Brad,  meditatively. 

"Beats  all,"  said  Beany's  father,  after  a 
pause,  uhow  much  trouble  the  oldest  boy  of 
Shute's  makes  in  the  neighborhood.  Before  he 
came  here  to  live,  my  boy  was  as  good  a  boy  as 
I  ever  saw.  But  get  him  with  that  infernal 
Shute  boy,  he  is  most  as  bad  as  he  is." 

"That's  right,"  said  Pewt's  father,  "never 
had  any  trouble  with  Clarence  'fore  that  brat  of 
Shute's  came  here.  'Pears  to  put  the  devil  into 
all  the  boys." 

"Takes  after  his  father  a  good  deal,"  said 
Beany's  father. 

"That's  so,"  said  Pewt's  father. 

"Beats  all  how  much  George  thinks  of  that 
little  Frankie,"  said  Beany's  father. 

"Well  you  know  he  thinks  more  of  him  since 
he  got  that  bile  on  his  back,  because  'Abscess 
makes  the  heart  grow  fonder.'  ' 
3*7 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

"Um-m-huh,"  assented  Beany's  father 
thoughtfully. 

"P'tu,"  replied  Pewt's  father,  meditatively, 
and  they  relapsed  into  silence. 

Now  while  this  brilliant  and  instructive  con 
ference  was  being  held,  a  few  rods  away  three 
boys  with  freshly  soaped  faces  and  hair  plas 
tered  over  their  foreheads,  sat  in  the  vestry  of 
the  Unitarian  church,  singing  vigorously  and 
restraining  themselves  with  difficulty  from  jab 
bing  pins  into  each  other,  while  they  cast  fre 
quent  glances  at  the  old  clock  which  seemed  to 
them  to  tick  the  seconds  with  dragging  slow 
ness. 

An  hour  later  the  same  boys  might  have  been 
seen  vigorously  tuning  their  lusty  pipes  to  the 
more  fervent  hymns  of  the  Methodist  Sabbath 
school,  while  still  later  in  the  day  their  shrill 
and  vociferous  singing  was  the  wonder  and  ad 
miration  of  their  associates  in  the  Sunday  school 
of  the  Congregational  church. 

The  reason  for  all  this,  Wat,  had  sententious- 
ly  given.  "Three  Sunday  schools  and  three 
328 


The  same  boys,  tuning 
their  lusty  pipes 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

presents  for  good  behavior." 

When  a  short  time  before  Christmas  they 
had  ascertained  that  the  Methodist  church 
would  probably  hold  their  Christmas  festival 
on  Christmas  night,  the  First  Congregational 
on  the  night  before,  and  the  Unitarian  the  night 
after  Christmas;  they  decided  at  once  to  be 
come  members  of  the  Sunday  schools  of  all 
three  organizations.  True  enough,  they  al 
ready  were  more  or  less  discredited  members  of 
the  Unitarian  Sunday  school,  but  as  they  were 
exceedingly  liberal  in  their  religious  views,  they 
thought  that  great  good  would  come  from  their 
relations  with  several  churches  at  once,  especial 
ly  in  the  Christmas  season. 

As  Beany's  family  were  members  of  the  Con 
gregational  parish,  Beany  occupying  a  position 
as  blow-boy  of  the  Unitarian  church  from  finan 
cial  and  utilitarian  reasons  solely,  it  was  easy 
to  secure  admission  to  the  first  named  Sunday 
school  through  the  kind  invitation  extended  by 
that  pious  youth. 

Admission  to  the  Methodist  school  was  not 

331 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

so  easy.  Several  young  Methodists,  to  whom 
they  applied,  were  proof  against  their  bland 
ishments,  but  one  day,  having  artfully  enticed 
one  Diddly  Colcord,  an  enthusiastic  Christmas 
Methodist,  into  Pewt's  back  yard,  they  solicited 
his  good  offices;  but  fearful  of  too  liberally  wat 
ering  the  stock  of  Christmas  presents  by  the  ad 
mission  of  new  members,  he  rudely  refused, 
whereupon  they  jointly  set  upon  him  and  sound 
ly  mauled  him  until  he  became  converted  to 
their  views,  and  loudly  and  wailingly  consented. 

And  Diddly  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  the 
next  Sabbath,  with  a  black  eye  and  damaged 
nose  he  ushered  them,  somewhat  abashed,  into 
a  class  of  small,  tough  looking  gamins,  evident 
ly  new  converts. 

That  three  Sunday  schools  only  were  joined 
by  the  trio  was  due  solely  to  the  fact  that  the 
hours  of  service  in  other  schools  conflicted  with 
these,  while  these  three  did  not  conflict  in  the 
least  with  each  other. 

The  Unitarian  held  their  school  directly  af 
ter  the  morning  service,  and  any  benefit  that 
332 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

children  might  have  derived  from  the  instruc 
tion  was  effectually  prevented  by  the  fact  that 
before  the  end  of  the  school  service  they  were 
nearly  starved  from  their  unaccustomed  fasting, 
the  dinner  hour  in  that  good  old  town  being  at 
sharp  noon. 

The  Methodist  held  their  Sunday  school  just 
after  the  dinner  hour,  and  pupils  after  the 
hearty  Sunday  dinner  were  generally  in  such  a 
condition  of  turgidity,  as  to  gain  little,  if  any, 
spiritual  uplifting  from  their  instruction. 

Again,  the  First  Congregational  deferred 
their  Sunday  school  until  after  the  regular  after 
noon  service,  when  the  pupils  who  had  attended 
the  two  prior  services  were  in  a  state  of  mental 
and  physical  exhaustion  that  ill-fitted  them  for 
their  soul's  improvement.  In  the  case  of  our 
three  friends,  by  the  time  the  afternoon  services 
began,  they  were  in  the  most  irresponsible  con 
dition  of  semi-idiocy. 

Indeed,  after  the  last  service  they  were  ac 
customed  to  tone  up  their  shatterd  nerves  by 
snow-balling,  wrestling  and  fighting  with  their 

333 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

school-mates,  and  secretly  doing  many  other 
things  not  warranted  by  their  bringing  up,  and 
which  upon  ordinary  Sundays  we  trust  that  even 
they  would  not  have  done. 

As  Christmas  approached  their  fervor  in 
creased,  and  they  even  went  so  far  as  to  study 
with  some  care  their  Sunday  school  lesson,  and 
apart  from  their  ludicrous  mispronunciation  of 
unfamiliar  words  and  four  syllabled  names, 
they  acquitted  themselves  creditably.  While  the 
strain  on  them  was  great,  they  consoled  them 
selves  with  the  assurance  that  it  would  not  last 
much  longer,  and  the  goal  of  their  ambition 
was  already  in  sight.  As  it  was,  the  safety 
valve  was  under  very  great  pressure. 

The  Sunday  before  Christmas,  the  superin 
tendent  of  the  Unitarian  Sunday  school  made 
the  expected  announcement  that  the  usual 
Christmas  festival  and  tree  exercises  would  be 
held  in  the  Town  Hall  on  Thursday  evening, 
the  day  after  Christmas,  at  which  the  three  boys 
grinned  broadly  and  winked  expansively  at  each 
other,  and  when  their  voices  rang  out  blithely 
334 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

in  the  school  songs,  they  were  most  favorably 
looked  upon  by  their  teachers,  who  knew  some 
particulars  of  their  daily  life,  as  brands  plucked 
from  the  burning. 

To  rush  gleefully  home  and  gobble  their  din 
ner  and  repair  expectantly  to  the  Methodist 
Sunday  school  required  but  a  short  time.  But 
once  there,  a  most  astonishing  and  unlocked  for 
facer  awaited  them.  At  the  close  of  the  lesson 
the  superintendent,  a  portly  and  bulging  man 
in  black  and  shiny  broadcloth,  ponderously 
arose  and  rubbing  his  hand  informed  his 
"De-a-a-r-r-r  hea-r-r-rer-r-snthat  the  teachers  of 
the  school  and  trustees  of  the  church  had  de 
cided  to  use  the  money  ordinarily  devoted  to  the 
Christmas  tree  festival,  for  the  relief  of  the 
heathen,  and  that  to  reward  the  "Dear-r-r"  pu 
pils  who  had  so  generously  given  up  their  en 
joyment,  a  Sunday  school  concert  would  be  held 
next  Sunday  evening,  at  which  all  pupils  were 
expected  to  commit  and  recite  at  least  four 
verses  of  Scripture.  At  the  close  of  this  an 
nouncement,  the  school  was  dismissed  amid  a 

335 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

horrified  silence,  which  was  broken  as  the  schol 
ars  dashed  noisily  down  the  stairs,  when  Plupy, 
Beany  and  Pewt,  each  giving  the  amazed  and 
innocent  Diddly  Colcord  a  prodigious  punch, 
fled  for  home. 

But  despite  their  discomfiture,  they  were 
promptly  on  hand  at  the  late  service  of  the  Con 
gregational  Sunday  school,  only  to  have  their 
breath  taken  away  by  the  harrowing  announce 
ment  that,  owing  to  the  unavoidable  absence  of 
the  good  pastor  on  the  evening  usually  appoint 
ed  for  the  Christmas  festival,  it  would  be  held 
in  the  large  vestry  on  the  evening  after  Christ 
mas. 

The  disgust  and  disappointment  of  our  three 
friends  was  pitiful.  For  this  they  had  given  the 
best  of  their  young  energies,  the  best  of  their 
fresh  voices,  the  best  of  their  religious  attain 
ments.  During  the  long  and  dreary  hour  of 
that  session  they  were  dangerously  near  the 
verge  of  mutiny,  but  restrained  their  feelings 
until  after  singing  that  harmonious  morceau, 
"We  all  love  one  another,"  they  were  dis- 
336 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

missed,  when  Beany,  conscious  from  their  sul 
len  looks  that  something  was  in  store  for  him, 
although  he  was  entirely  innocent  and  as  much 
chagrined  as  Pewt  and  Plupy,  prudently  took  to 
his  heels  and  was  pursued  to  the  door  of  his 
father's  house  by  his  disappointed  fellow-con 
spirators,  burning  to  wreak  upon  his  plump  per 
son,  the  vengeance  their  disappointed  ambition 
demanded. 

And  when  on  Christmas  morning  instead  of 
the  usual  knife,  or  bowgun  or  book  of  animals 
or  birds,  they  each  received  a  New  Testament 
from  their  amused  and  admiring  relatives,  their 
disgust  knew  no  bounds. 


337 


CHAPTER  XVlll 


"Fire!  Fire!    A  house  is  on  fire 

See  the  firemen  run. 

It  is  a  crime  to  set  a 

House  on  fire."  — Oldtime  Primer. 


IT  was  March.    The  snow  had  gone  except 
on  the  north  side  of  buildings  and  in 
sheltered  spots.     The  roads  leading  to 
Exeter  were  seas  of  mud  by  day  and 
frozen   ruts  by  night.     The   sun   rose 
brightly  every  morning,  and  the  air  was  balmy, 
and  everyone  said:    "What  a  beautiful  spring 
day!   It  seems  as  if  spring  had  really  come." 

At  noon  the  sky  became  overcast,  a  piercing 
northeast  wind  began  to  blow  directly  from  the 
land  of  icebergs,  people  resumed  their  heavy 
overcoats,  scarfs  and  earmuffs,  and  solemnly  de 
clared  that  never  was  there  a  colder  or  more 
backward  spring. 

In  the  stores,  hoes,  rakes,  shovels,  spades, 
seed  corn  and  sprouting  potatoes  were  exposed 
for  sale;  but  even  with  this  encouragement  the 

338 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

snow  squalls  alternated  with  weak,  watery  sun 
shine  and  cold  drenching  rains.  It  was  a  typical 
New  England  spring  that  poets  have  idealized, 
raved  over,  painted  in  a  thousand  alluring  col 
ors,  but  which  is  in  reality  the  coldest,  dreariest, 
most  infernal  season  of  the  year,  freighted  with 
coughs,  colds,  mumps,  measles,  sore  throats, 
ear-aches,  chilblains,  consumption,  bronchitis,  in 
fluenza,  chills,  fever,  wet  feet,  and  countless  oth 
er  evils.  A  New  England  spring  I  Heaven  help 
those  who  have  to  endure  it.  The  hottest  sum 
mer  is  none  too  long  to  get  the  chills  out  of  one's 
bones.  The  coldest,  most  bracing  winter  hardly 
serves  to  tone  one's  system  to  bear  the  dreadful 
weeks  of  a  New  England  spring. 

It  was  midnight  and  the  village  was  asleep. 
Plupy  was  asleep,  dreaming  of  the  coming  sum 
mer.  It  had  been  a  dull  week  for  everyone, 
rainy,  snowy,  cold.  It  had  seemed  to  Plupy  that 
nothing  had  ever  happened,  and  he  was  sure 
that  utter  dreariness  and  stagnation  had  fallen 
over  the  town.  But  something  was  going  to 
happen  that  would  bring  wild  excitement  to 
339 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

Plupy  and  to  his  family. 

It  was  even  now  happening,  but  Plupy  and  his 
family  slept  on  unconscious. 

In  the  large  building  next  to  Plupy's  house, 
occupied  as  a  post  office  and  a  dry  goods  store, 
the  cellar  was  lighted  by  a  dull  red  glow.  It 
grew  in  intensity,  and  thin  spirals  of  smoke  be 
gan  to  creep  from  the  cracks  and  keyholes.  The 
light  increased,  the  smoke  grew  thicker,  and  a 
dull  roar  was  heard. 

Then  the  bell  of  the  First  church  began  to 
ring  jerkily,  excitedly,  as  if  it  knew  the  danger. 
Someone  had  seen  the  fire  and  rung  an  alarm. 
Instantly  the  town  began  to  wake  up,  and  weird 
cries  were  heard,  and  the  clump  of  heavy  boots 
on  the  run,  as  their  owners  hurried  to  the  engine 
houses;  then  the  big  bell  of  the  Methodist 
church  added  its  deep  tones  to  the  chorus,  fol 
lowed  by  the  brazen  clang  of  the  Upper  church 
bell,  and  the  alarm  note  of  the  Episcopal.  They 
were  all  at  it  now,  and  everyone  was  shouting 
fire !  as  if  nobody  else  knew  it. 

What  a  noise !  Plupy  woke  with  a  start.  He 
340 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

had  been  dreaming  of  fire  and  seemed  to  have 
heard  the  bells  in  his  sleep.  He  sprang  from 
the  bed  almost  before  his  eyes  were  opened. 
"Bully!"  there  was  a  fire.  He  could  see  the 
light.  It  must  be  a  "ripper"  by  the  noise.  He 
tore  into  his  clothes.  He  got  his  trousers  on 
wrong-side-to.  What  did  it  matter  ?  His  boots, 
wet  the  day  before,  stuck.  He  pulled  until  his 
eyes  stuck  out,  then  stamped  until  the  warped 
and  twisted  boots  were  on.  They  hurt  him,  but 
he  did  not  care,  there  was  a  fire,  a  bully  one,  and 
pretty  near  too,  for  he  could  see  the  light.  He 
hoped  it  would  be  a  big  one,  he  hadn't  seen  a 
big  one  for  some  time. 

He  could  hear  his  aunt  calling  excitedly  for 
his  father  to  hurry  up  and  see  where  it  was.  He 
could  hear  a  bustle  in  the  other  rooms.  Sud 
denly  there  was  a  tremendous  pounding  on  the 
front  door,  the  hoarse  voices  shouted,  "George, 
wake  up,  you're  all  afire!"  Then  the  pounding 
was  repeated. 

Plupy  rushed  in  tremendous  excitement  to  his 
father's  room;  his  father  was  loudly  calling  for 
343 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

his  trousers.  The  children  began  to  cry  loudly. 
Plupy's  mother  was  a  woman  of  nerve  and  cool 
ness.  She  ordered  Plupy's  father  to  guard  the 
front  door  until  they  had  the  children  dressed. 
He  rushed  down  stairs,  unlocked  the  door  and 
shouted  to  the  crowd  to  wait.  A  violently  ex 
cited  policeman  brandishing  a  club  rushed  for 
ward  and  tried  to  enter;  Plupy's  father  pushed 
him  back;  he  rushed  again  and  tried  to  seize 
Plupy's  father,  he  received  one  straight  from 
the  shoulder,  and  went  bumping  backwards 
down  the  steps.  Plupy's  father  owed  the  po 
liceman  a  grudge.  It  was  the  same  policeman 
that  had  put  Plupy  out  of  the  hall  the  night  he 
was  to  make  a  speech.  The  crowd  roared. 

Inside,  the  dressing  went  on  coolly;  the  pro 
cession  was  formed.  Aunt  Sarah  led  the 
way  with  the  baby  and  Frankie,  the  rest  fol 
lowed,  holding  on  to  one  another.  Plupy  was 
allowed  to  stay  behind  and  save  things.  His 
mother  also  stayed.  She  was  needed.  If  it 
had  not  been  for  her,  there  wouldn't  have  been 
a  thing  left  unsmashed.  Plupy's  father  was 
344 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

saving  things,  too.  He  saved  some  paper  dolls 
and  a  china  dog.  Also  a  little  image  of  "David 
Praying."  He  also  broke  out  several  windows 
and  cast  things  out  of  them.  So  did  the  crowd, 
when  Plupy's  father  did  not  see  them.  They 
were  things  that  would  break.  Most  of  them 
did  break. 

Plupy's  father  kept  on  saving  things.  He 
saved  a  large  iron  kettle  nearly  full  of  apple 
sauce.  It  was  good  apple-sauce.  He  carried  it 
a  long  distance  and  set  it  down  carefully.  He 
did  not  throw  it  through  the  window  as  he  did 
the  other  things.  He  would  have  spilled  it  if 
he  had,  and  then  again  the  kettle  might  have  hit 
someone  and  hurt  him.  It  did  not  make  so 
much  difference  with  the  bureau,  or  the  pitchers, 
or  the  glass  globe  or  the  lamps. 

In  the  meantime  the  fire  was  gaining  ground. 
Round  the  corner  from  Front  street  came  a  long 
line  of  men  on  a  run,  dragging  the  old  hand 
tub  "Fountain,"  they  swung  round  a  short  turn. 
The  engine  struck  the  curbing,  tipped  and  went 
over.  The  men  rushed  back,  shouting  and 

345 


PLUPY,  'THE  REAL  BOY" 

swearing,  and  the  fire  roared.  From  the  other 
direction  came  the  "Torrent."  They  backed 
her  to  the  big  cistern,  ran  out  the  hose,  the  men 
manned  the  brakes,  "zoonka-zoonka"  went  the 
engine,  the  nozzle  men  stood  ready,  there  was 
no  water. 

"What's  the  matter?"  shouted  the  nozzle 
men. 

The  pumpers  stopped.  They  had  forgotten 
to  let  down  the  suction  pipe.  A  dozen  men 
sprang  to  do  it,  there  was  a  crash  of  rotten 
boards  and  the  top  of  the  cistern  gave  way. 
Four  men  went  through.  They  rose  to  the  sur 
face  gasping,  and  were  dragged  out  dripping. 
There  was  great  excitement  and  the  fire  roared 
merrily. 

The  old  "Piscataqua"  was  late.  She  had 
farther  to  go  and  two  horses  to  help.  They 
were  a  great  help,  they  carried  the  engine  at 
great  speed.  They  usually  got  to  a  fire  first. 
This  night  they  were  a  new  pair  of  horses.  They 
ran  with  great  swiftness,  faster  even  than  the 
other  horses,  but  they  ran  the  wrong  way  and 
346 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

the  driver  could  not  stop  them  for  a  long  time. 

When  the  "Piscataqua"  got  to  the  fire  the 
"Fountain"  had  been  pried  up  and  had  got  a 
stream  on.  So  had  the  "Torrent."  The  men 
were  pumping  for  their  lives.  Bucket  lines  had 
been  formed,  and  the  thud  and  tunk  of  leather 
buckets  on  heads  made  apparently  of  the  same 
material  was  heard  above  the  roar  of  the  fire. 
So  were  the  indignant  remarks  of  the  victims. 

The  bells  were  still  ringing.  They  were  de 
termined  everyone  should  know  there  was  a  fire. 
Some  of  the  people  may  not  have  known  it. 
Some  of  them  acted  as  if  they  did  not.  Most  of 
them  worked  hard  to  put  out  the  fire  and  save 
things.  Plupy's  father  was  very  active  in  sav 
ing  things.  The  last  thing  he  saved  was  Plupy's 
boat.  It  was  in  the  cellar.  The  cellar  was  rap 
idly  filling  with  water  and  the  boat  might  have 
got  wet.  So  Plupy's  father  saved  it.  It  was 
the  last  thing  saved.  Everything  else  had  been 
saved  and  smashed  but  the  tacks  in  the  carpets. 
They  had  been  left  in  the  floor  with  little 
bunches  of  carpet  under  them. 
349 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  ROY" 

The  piano  had  also  been  saved.  All  but  the 
legs.  They  had  been  chopped  off  with  axes.  Old 
Sam  Brown  and  Jethro  Holt  had  cut  them  off. 
They  knew  how  to  cut  down  trees.  They  could 
cut  a  large  tree  down  in  five  minutes.  They  cut 
down  the  piano  in  less  time  than  that,  much  less. 
They  were  strong  men.  Plupy's  mother  cried 
about  the  piano.  She  had  learned  to  play  on 
it  when  she  was  a  girl.  They  could  have  un 
screwed  the  legs.  She  said  so. 

By  this  time  the  postoffice  building  had  fallen 
down.  There  was  nothing  else  to  burn  but  the 
stone  foundations  and  they  would  not  burn. 
Lucy  Boardman's  shed  had  also  burned  down. 
They  had  pulled  part  of  it  down  with  poles  and 
hooks.  So  all  the  streams  were  turned  on 
Plupy's  house,  and  the  axmen  chopped  great 
holes  in  the  roof  to  see  if  there  was  any  fire 
there,  and  then  they  stuck  in  the  nozzles  and 
filled  the  house  with  water. 

Some  of  the  neighbors  made  hot  coffee  and 
passed  it  to  the  firemen.  They  also  passed 
bkck  bottles  around,  not  the  neighbors  but  fire- 
350 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

men.  Some  of  them  staggered,  they  were  so 
tired,  and  one  or  two  fell  down  exhausted.  As 
soon  as  their  places  were  taken  by  fresh  men, 
they  would  go  into  the  hotel  near  by  to  rest. 
They  all  went  into  the  bar-room,  because  they 
could  rest  better  there. 

By-and-by  they  put  out  the  fire,  It  was  nearly 
morning  then  and  quite  light. 

Plupy  and  his  father  went  into  the  house.  It 
was  not  very  badly  burned,  but  the  plastering 
had  all  fallen  down  and  the  paper  was  peeling 
from  the  walls.  The  insurance  men  came  and 
talked  with  Plupy's  father.  He  said  the  house 
wasn't  worth  a  red  cent.  They  said  it  was  in 
pretty  good  condition,  considering. 

Plupy's  mother  had  gone  down  to  Aunt 
Clark's,  where  the  children  were.  Plupy  got 
permission  to  go  down  to  Ed  Towle's  to  stay  to 
breakfast.  Plupy  was  having  a  good  time,  he 
felt  rather  important  because  it  was  his  father's 
house  that  had  burned,  and  he  thought  Lizzie 
Towle,  Ed's  sister,  would  think  he  was  quite  a 
fellow.  Beany  wanted  him  to  come  to  his  house 

353 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

and  Plupy  had  promised  to  make  him  a  visit  of 
a  week  after  he  had  finished  his  visit  at  Ed's. 

After  breakfast  Plupy  returned  to  the  house, 
and  helped  remove  such  furniture  as  was  not 
entirely  ruined,  to  storage  in  Beany's  barn.  Pewt 
helped  him  and  so  did  Pop  and  Bill  and  Bug, 
Whack,  Puzzy,  Tady,  Skinny,  Diddly,  Pile, 
Skippy  and  his  other  friends. 

They  were  very  kind  and  sympathetic  with 
Plupy.  It  was  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  burned 
out  and  lose  everything. 

Plupy  fully  appreciated  his  position  and  did 
his  best  to  be  solemn,  melancholy  and  sad.  As 
he  contemplated  the  ruins  he  passed  the  back  of 
his  hand  across  his  eyes  and  mournfully  shook 
his  head,  and  looked  heroic  and  resigned. 

It  was  really  very  hard  to  play  the  part  of  a 
crushed  martyr,  for  Plupy  was  having  the  best 
time  he  ever  had  in  his  life.  He  told  again  and 
again  to  an  ever  widening  circle  of  listeners, 
how  he  had  heard  the  bells  and  jumped  from 
his  bed,  feeling  sure  that  the  time  had  come  to 
play  the  man;  how  he  had  rushed  through  the 
354 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

rooms  awakening  the  family;  how  he  had  told 
his  sisters  not  to  be  scared,  that  he  would  look 
out  for  them ;  how  he  had  saved  the  most  valu 
able  things,  and  had  lifted  weights  that  in  sober 
moments  he  could  not  have  stirred  from  the 
floor;  how  he  had  directed  the  firemen  just 
where  the  fire  was  under  the  coving  and  where 
to  cut  the  holes  to  insert  the  nozzle;  how  the 
hose  burst  right  under  him,  and  the  flames  al 
most  cut  him  off,  but  he  had  stayed  until  every 
one  had  safely  got  out. 

We  must  not  criticise  Plupy  too  harshly.  He 
was  an  imaginative  youth,  and  the  fact  that  he 
was  temporarily  occupying  the  center  of  the 
stage  had  in  a  measure  unsettled  his  judgment, 
that  was  all.  Pewt  openly  scoffed  at  Plupy's 
stories  and  told  him  what  he  had  done,  and  how 
Plupy  might  have  done  much  better,  "if  he  had 
known  anything."  But  Pewt  was  so  evidently 
jealous  and  unfair  that  he  was  told  to  ushet  up," 
and  he  went  away  in  huge  disgust. 

Plupy's  father  was  conferring  with  the  insur 
ance  men.  He  was  much  depressed  by  his  se- 

355 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

vere  losses.  They  were  much  greater  than  the 
insurance  men  were  willing  to  acknowledge. 
The  insurance  men  were  not  fair,  so  Plupy's 
father  said.  Plupy's  father  was  trying  to  mag 
nify  his  loss  beyond  all  sense  or  reason,  so  the 
insurance  men  said.  Plupy's  father  put  the  case 
to  them  as  fair  men,  willing  to  pay  what  they 
agreed  to  do  under  the  terms  of  their  policies. 
They  put  the  case  to  him  as  an  upright  man, 
who  only  wanted  what  was  right  and  fair,  man 
to  man. 

The  day  passed;  crowds  of  people  visited  the 
ruins.  One  engine  was  still  in  attendance,  play 
ing  on  the  post  office  safe.  It  was  still  too  hot 
to  be  opened,  and  steamed  when  the  water 
struck  it.  The  postmaster  had  opened  a  tem 
porary  office  in  the  west  room,  ground  floor  of 
the  hotel.  The  reporter  for  the  local  paper  in 
terviewed  Plupy's  father,  and  estimated  his  loss 
at  a  most  appalling  figure.  He  also  interviewed 
the  insurance  men  and  they  were  much  im 
pressed  at  his  remarks.  He  told  the  insurance 
men  that  he  wanted  to  say  in  his  report  for  the 
356 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY'' 

paper  that  "The  adjusters  of  the  -  -  Insur 
ance  Company  and  of  the  -  -  Insurance  Com 
pany,  two  of  the  soundest,  most  liberal  and  at 
the  same  time  conservative  companies  now  do 
ing  business  in  America,  settled  matters  with 
Mr.  Shute  on  a  far  more  liberal  basis  than  the 
strict  letter  of  their  policies  allowed."  That 
"it  is  such  treatment  that  assures  the  confidence 
of  the  public  and  the  success  of  the  companies." 
That  "the  adjusters,  Messrs.  Blank  and  Zero, 
commend  their  local  agents,  Messrs.  Cypher 
and  Nought,  to  the  public  and  grateful  for  past 
favors  solicit  a  continuance  of  the  same." 

The  reporter  for  the  local  paper  was  a  great 
friend  of  Plupy's  father,  and  had  conferred 
earnestly  with  him  before  the  insurance  men 
had  arrived.  He  assured  the  insurance  men  that 
his  report  would  be  published  in  the  Boston  pa 
pers.  The  insurance  men  conferred  again  with 
Plupy's  father.  The  matter  was  compromised. 
Certain  papers  were  filled  out  and  signed  by  the 
insurance  men  and  by  Plupy's  father. 

Plupy's  father  returned  to  his  family.     He 

359 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

was  met  on  the  way  by  sympathetic  friends,  who 
told  him  how  sorry  they  were  to  learn  of  his 
great  loss.  He  thanked  them,  sighed  deeply, 
and  said  the  insurance  companies  had  been  very 
square  and  liberal  with  him,  but  that  there  was 
a  sentimental  value  attached  to  household  goods 
that  no  money  could  fully  compensate. 

But  there  was  a  satisfied  look  in  his  eyes,  his 
step  was  elastic  and  he  gave  Plupy  a  ten  cent 
scrip,  which  was  a  sure  sign  that  his  mind  was 
at  peace. 

That  night  and  for  a  week  after,  Plupy 
stayed  at  the  American  House,  kept  by  Ed 
Towle's  father.  There  was  a  large  stable  at 
tached  to  the  house.  There  was  a  billiard  hall 
in  front  of  the  stable.  Plupy  had  promised  his 
mother  not  to  go  into  the  billiard  hall.  But 
there  was  a  great  deal  to  see  besides  that.  It 
•was  almost  as  lively  a  place  as  Major  Blake's. 

After  his  visit  to  Ed's  was  over,  he  went  to 

Beany's  for  a  week.     A  week  of  constant  fun 

and  skirmish.     From  the  moment  they  woke  in 

the   morning  they  had   a   pillow   fight,   which 

360 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

raged  furiously  until  breakfast  time.  After 
breakfast  they  wrestled  and  skirmished  until 
fairly  driven  from  the  house  to  school.  They 
chopped  kindlings  with  delight  and  in  friendly 
rivalry.  They  drew  water  from  the  well  with 
the  old  fashioned  chain  and  windlass,  and 
slopped  it  over  each  other. 

Plupy's  father  hired  another  house  until  his 
house  was  repaired  and  Plupy  had  to  help  move. 
It  was  vacation  again  for  two  weeks.  Beany 
helped  him  and  they  would  load  up  a  dingle 
cart  with  furniture  and  drive  Nellie  up  to  the 
new  house,  which  was  on  Lincoln  street,  nearly 
a  mile  from  where  he  had  always  lived.  Then 
they  would  return  for  another  load  and  would 
always  race  with  everyone  on  the  road.  This 
saved  time  and  made  fun  for  them.  It  was  not 
so  much  fun  for  the  other  people  because  Nellie 
was  a  fast  trotter,  the  old  dingle  cart  rattled 
tremendously,  and  the  boys  yelled  as  loud  as 
they  could.  People  were  not  pleased,  but  they 
could  not  catch  the  boys. 

By-and-by  all  the  furniture  was  moved,  and 


PLUPY,  "THE  REAL  BOY" 

the  family  went  into  the  new  house.  The  people 
in  the  neighborhood,  where  Plupy  had  always 
lived,  were  very  sorry  to  lose  the  Shutes.  Some 
of  them  cried.  They  did  not  feel  badly  to  lose 
Plupy.  Some  of  them  said  so.  Pewt's  father 
said  so,  and  so  did  Beany's.  They  thought  a 
great  deal  of  Pewt  and  Beany.  It  was  fortu 
nate  for  Pewt  and  Beany  that  Plupy  moved. 
Perhaps  it  was  for  Plupy.  What  do  you  think? 


i'HIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  PINE  OP  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
.OVERDUE. 


i"  EC   20  1938 

JAN    3      ti)3 

AUG    0  *$to 

•"is.  cm.f'31/  j  4  77 

MG  .^  i  [998 

^.  A  r\f'  ^ 

Q    ''•/.  •::  ..'  •  t,    ;  {      •   ; 

1.    ,    i  n»y  f  tfiT  I 

^4MAY  59  1| 

\v-.'-    !"    '    . 

l^i  B%  ^3 

^ 

t^J        _ 

p'lc'D  LD 

"  AM 

MIW  2  b  6  j  - 

REC'D  LD    N0\ 

1  8     ,  -11  AM  9  ^ 

yt;         j;/ 

LD  21-95wi-7,'37 

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